


The Mollcroft Files

by shnuffeluv



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Mollcroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2016-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-12 21:46:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 45
Words: 46,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2125764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shnuffeluv/pseuds/shnuffeluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some ships have a list. Mollcroft has a file. From fluff to angst, humor to crack, this is a collection of all my miscellaneous Mollcroft one-shots that don't go anywhere else. Will be taking requests. Will NOT be writing mature content, smut, and the like, sorry! Fluff is my strong point, but I do other things too. Working on this from AO3 and Fanfiction, so if I don't get to any specific request for a while, I'm just caught in a list from 2 sites.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Exception to Every Rule

**Author's Note:**

> So...this is my first fic I've tried posting on AO3. If any problems show up please be kind, but don't hesitate to point out a problem in formatting or anything else! Here's what happened: I saw on therinian’s Tumblr a Mollcroft prompt I really liked that said: It's a bit OOC for Mycroft, but I'm looking for a humorous angle:  
> Mycroft realizes he likes Molly, but is at a loss as to how to ask her on a date; typically, he sends Anthea to make appointments with women he's interested in, but somehow doing that with Molly doesn't seem right. He turns to Sherlock, John, and Greg, individually, for pointers… and they give him the oddest advice. Mycroft tries to employ each bit of advice in his attempts to woo Doctor Molly Hooper, with disastrous results. Just when it seems like Molly is completely disappointed and wants nothing to do with Mycroft, he gets advice from an unlikely source: be yourself.  
> And thus started my one-shot collection. Feel free to drop me a line if you have something you want to see.

Mycroft wasn’t normally a heavy drinker, but there is an exception for every rule, and this was one of those times he just couldn’t stop. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. Just when he decided he liked Molly, everything came crashing down on him at once. Wasn’t that always the way? He had finished the damage control only today-a week after everything started-and now he had to deal with the problem that Molly Hooper had become. In any other situation, he would have just gotten Anthea to arrange an appointment with Molly so he could meet her. But somehow this just didn’t seem right for Molly. An exception to the rule. He checked the CCTV footage again. He was hopelessly at a loss for what to do. It seemed it was time to do what he thought he’d never have to do after Sherlock cleaned up from cocaine: he had to ask for help. First person on his list to ask would be someone he knew didn’t see Molly as much and if he did, he wouldn’t be inclined to gossip. A quick phone call later and he was meeting Lestrade at a pub in 20. Not the ideal place, but he could tell on the phone Lestrade was already more than a little drunk, and he didn’t trust Greg to meet _him_ anywhere, so it would have to do.

When he showed up, Greg motioned for him to take a seat, and Mycroft complied. Ordering a shot of his own, he got straight to the point. “I need some advice.”

Greg looked at him and laughed. “Never thought I’d hear you say that to me again. What’s the matter? Sherlock at it again?”

“No…I need some…girl…advice.”

Greg nearly choked on his drink. “What?! Mate, I think I’ve had one too many pints. I thought you just said you needed help with girls?”

“You heard me correctly.”

“Well, then. How can I help?”

“Say I liked someone shy and not very outgoing, but was still willing to stand up for what she believed…like Molly, for example. And I don’t always follow the moral code she does, so I don’t know how she sees me. How could I show her I like her without her thinking I’m just trying to manipulate her?”

“That is a tough one. I mean if she’s anything like Molly and you’re…well, _you_ …” Mycroft rolled his eyes, “Why don’t you just…talk to her? Get in a conversation, bring up dinner and see if she’ll accept. Don’t be subtle about it. The worst that can happen is she’ll say no.”

Mycroft knocked back his shot and said, “That’s worse coming from her than from most people.”

Greg slapped his shoulder suddenly and said, “Good luck, mate. Have you tried asking John?”

“John?”

“In the army they called him John ‘Three Continents’ Watson, if that gives you an idea of how he is with women.”

Mycroft hummed in thought. “Maybe I will. Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime.” Lestrade tried to stand but had to sit down.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Mycroft offered.

“Please.”

* * *

John walked into Mycroft’s office the next day, wondering what exactly was happening. Mycroft poured himself a glass of whiskey and offered one to John. Alarms going off in John’s head, he immediately asked, “Mycroft, what am I doing here?”

Mycroft said bluntly, “I confronted Lestrade with a problem and he directed me towards you.”

“Me, why?”

“You were known to your friends in the army as John ‘Three Continents’ Watson, were you not?”

“No way. You need _dating_ advice? Someone pinch me, I must be dreaming!” he laughed.

He stopped when he realized Mycroft wasn’t joking. “Oh. You really need advice.”

Mycroft winced and looked away. “This wasn’t a good idea…”

John shook his head and said, “What’s the problem? Do you need her to notice you, or are you already dating and hit a bump in the relationship?”

Mycroft looked back at him. “You’re acting surprisingly calm about this.”

“Well, the sooner I answer your question the sooner I can leave. Now which is it?”

“The first one.”

“Well, why don’t you try cracking a few jokes?”

“Me? Joke. Please tell me you’re not serious.”

“If you don’t normally do it, that should get her attention.” John shrugged. “It’s worth a shot.”

Mycroft nodded mutely and was about to say he could leave when Sherlock burst in. “Mycroft! Why have you taken John this time?!”

“Mycroft needs girl advice!” John said like he was still in grade school. Sherlock’s eyes widened and Mycroft face palmed, wishing he could die on the spot.

Sherlock starts laughing, not believing his ears. Mycroft tries to throw both of them out of his office, but as he’s shoving Sherlock out, his foot gets caught in the door. “Show off your intellect. It’s always gotten me the girls.” Sherlock removes his foot and closes the door before Mycroft can respond. Now he has three pieces of advice that seem kind of odd, but he’s willing to give it a shot. He figures he’ll go to the morgue tomorrow and see if it works, somehow feeling a little lighter now that he has some sort of plan.

* * *

When Mycroft enters the morgue the next day, Molly does a double take when she sees him. “Mr. Holmes! How can I help you?”

“Well, you could call me Mycroft for a start, Dr. Hooper.” He tries a laugh but it comes out forced and a little cold. “I needed to check one of your bodies. He was an associate of mine and I need to see exactly how much damage control I need to do.”

“Oh, of course. You can call me Molly, by the way. What’s the man’s name?”

“Smith. John Smith.”

Molly nods and says, “I won’t be getting to him for quite some time. You can stay…or leave! Whichever suits you. Most people don’t seem to like waiting around here…”she stammers.

Mycroft tries not to smile and says, “I don’t have anywhere to be, so I won’t wind up like someone here if I wait.”

“What?” Molly asks.

“I won’t be ‘late.’” Mycroft tries to smile, but something tells him that was the wrong thing to do as Molly starts to get mad.

“Is this a joke to you?”

“I…what?”

“These people were human beings. Walking, talking, human beings. Just days ago you could have passed these people on the street. How can you be so insensitive?!”

Mycroft blinked back his surprise. There goes one technique down the drain. “Sorry, I’m not one for jokes. Some people say I could use a little lightening up, so I was trying it out.”

“Well, it’s not funny.”

Mycroft nodded. “I understand that now. Am I still allowed to wait?”

Molly nods silently and goes to work. Mycroft notices after a while she’s having a bit of trouble with one of the corpses. “I don’t get it. No tumors, no evidence of violence, or poison, or anything! This man should be alive for all intents and purposes. What got to him?”

Mycroft realizes he could try Sherlock’s advice now, after all, the reason Molly has a crush on Sherlock is because of his smarts, right? “What about that mark on the back of his neck?”

Molly starts and looks up at him. “There’s a small mark on the back of his neck. It could pass as a birthmark, but it looks like something bruised him there and could have immobilized him, causing damage to some of his nerves. Without medical attention he could have died within the day, depending on where he was left and who left him there,” he explains.

“Show off,” Molly stated. “Trying to prove you’re smarter than me?”

“Just trying to help.”

“I don’t need your ‘help,’” Molly grumbled.

Mycroft mentally checked that off his list as well. He took a breath and said, “It just seems so quiet in here, I was trying to spark a little conversation.”

Molly put down her tools and said, “Mycroft, I’ve had a long day. I’m not in the mood to talk. So if you can’t stand waiting in here, go do something else and I’ll text you when I’m ready. Or better yet, I’ll just e-mail the report for you, since you clearly have more important places to be. Just go.”

Mycroft opened his mouth but Molly just pointed to the door. “Go.”

Mycroft slunk out and sighed. In the car ride back to his office, Anthea noticed his leg was bouncing impatiently and he was looking wistfully out the window. “Something the matter, sir?”

Mycroft looked over at her as if noticing her for the first time. “Anthea, you’re a girl.”

“Amazing observation, sir.” Anthea rolled her eyes. She couldn’t help but being sarcastic at that comment.

“How would you want someone to ask you on a date?”

Anthea laughed. She couldn’t help it. Mycroft could be so thick about the most basic of things. “I’d want them to be themselves. No gimmicks, no tricks, just to come up and ask me.”

Mycroft sighed and said, “I can’t do that…can I?”

“You tell me, sir.”

When Mycroft got back to the office, he called up a flower shop and ordered a bouquet of red tulips and yellow with one yew flower in the middle to deliver them to the morgue tomorrow with the tag, _Look up Victorian Flower Language–MH_

The next day he got a picture of a garden daisy by text and the words _Apology accepted. –Molly_

_Dinner?-MH_

_Of course! -Molly_

Mycroft smiled. He was glad that Molly was willing to accept who he was-a little old-fashioned, and a little socially awkward, but still someone who was willing to love someone else if they allowed him to. Now all he had to do was not screw up dinner…


	2. The Cat-Cake Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter is a request that came from Fanfiction. A guest wrote: If going for fluffy sweetness why not something with Molly's cat or to do with Mycroft's sweet tooth?  
> As a note to you all, I'll be posting all the chapters I've posted on Fanfiction before beginning to post any new requests. Then I'll be updating at hopefully relatively the same time, and I can manage two accounts at once.

Molly was at the morgue and Mycroft was working at home the day that it happened. Mycroft decided to bake a cake to surprise Molly. He made a chocolate cake without a hitch and began to cut it into the shape of a cat-whenever he did things like that Molly laughed and gave him a quick kiss. It was hard work, but it was worth it. Just as he finished cutting it and covered it as he went to make the icing, Molly’s cat Toby hopped up next to it. “What do you want?”

“Mrrow.” Toby batted at the covering over the cake.

Mycroft sighed and turned away, dipping his finger in the spare cake batter and licking it. He heard a crash and turned around to find Toby managed to throw the lid off the cake. “Nonono!” Mycroft rushed over and moved Toby out of the room. “That’s not for you!”

“Meow!” Toby seemed angry.

Mycroft went back and covered the cake again, putting a cookbook over it to weigh the lid down. He got out all of the food coloring he needed and started to whip up the icing, taking a bite of the extras of the cut cake as he did so. He heard a meow and found Toby up on the counter again, eating the extra cake. “Hey! That’s mine!” He tried to shoo Toby away but got himself clawed for his troubles.

“Mrrow!!!” Toby hissed and defiantly took a big bite of the extra cake.

Mycroft swiped him off the counter yelling, “THAT’S MY CAKE!!!”

In some corner of his mind he was glad no one saw him acting this childish, but his sweet tooth took precedence in the time that Molly wasn’t around, and that horrible cat had just taken his prize. Toby ran off, and Mycroft returned to work after checking to make sure the scratches weren’t serious. He quickly iced the cake and stuck it in the refrigerator for safe keeping. He cut off the place from the extra cake where Toby had taken a bite, and started to eat it, savoring every bite. He heard a yowl and turned to see Toby leaping at his leg. It was too late for Mycroft to react as a curse was ripped from his lips and he went quickly over to the sink. He poured a cup of water and dumped it on the cat, making him let go. Toby went on the table and stole the last bites of Mycroft’s little indulgence. He meowed smugly. Mycroft made a grab for him and Toby bounded off. “This means war,” Mycroft said with conviction. Just then his phone rang. “Hello?!” he asked.

“Love, are you okay?” Molly’s voice was full of concern even over the phone.

Mycroft sighed. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Toby just gave me a nasty scratch on my leg.”

Molly gave him a sympathetic cooing and a promise to help him treat it when she got back and then ended the call. Mycroft turned off the phone and went upstairs to get a pillowcase. When he came down Toby was waiting and hissed when Mycroft got close. He quickly threw the pillow over Toby and tied a knot at the opening, but not before he got one more scratch on his hand. He walked out of the house grumbling, Toby fighting the whole time. As Mycroft was about to throw the pillowcase into the trash can Molly pulled up in a taxi. “Mycroft, is that Toby?!”

Mycroft waited a second to long for that to register before hiding the make-shift sack behind his back. “No!” he lied like a child to Molly.

Molly narrowed her eyes and took the case from him, untying the knot and turning it sideways. Toby hopped out and rubbed against Molly’s legs lovingly. Mycroft  turned red as Molly led him inside and Toby followed them. Molly pulled up a chair in front of the kitchen sink and gently pushed Mycroft down onto it. She heated up the water and then put Mycroft’s hand under it as she rolled up his sleeve to rinse the other scratches. “And you wonder why he doesn’t like you,” Molly muttered.

Mycroft winced at the heat of the water but Toby wasn’t coming near him so at least he didn’t have to worry about that for a little while. “He was eating my food!” Mycroft whined.

“What are you, 3?”

“No, that’d be Sherlock. People say I act more like I’m 5,” he joked.

Molly kissed him on the forehead. “Well then I’d better readjust your bedtime, mister.”

Mycroft laughed. “Check the fridge for me? I wouldn’t put it past that devil spawn you insist on calling a cat to figure out how to get in there.”

Molly rolled her eyes and walked over to check. She gasped when she saw what was inside. Mycroft tried not to laugh. “Well, I see why you were trying to throw Toby out.”

“He was trying to eat it.”

“I have no doubt he was trying to eat the _extras_ …”

“Ah.”

“You’re _so_ busted,” Molly said walking over.

Mycroft stretched up to kiss her. “Can I have a slice of that, too?”

“Meow!” Toby said from the doorway.

“Stupid cat,” Mycroft scowled.


	3. First Day of School

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter was requested by lovethisfic on Fanfiction who said:  
> Mycroft with his daughter? Something anything? Maybe her first day at School :)  
> This one is very short compared to others. Just thought I'd mention as a general...warning.

“C’mon Daddy! We’re gonna be late!”

“Don’t worry Charlotte. We’re going to be fine.”

Mycroft was taking Charlotte-his and Molly’s daughter-to her first day at school, and needless to say, Charlotte was very excited. He was walking her to the classroom as parents were allowed to do for the first week. Outside the classroom Charlotte almost ran in, but Mycroft held her back by the shoulder. She turned around and he knelt down. “Now listen, Charlotte. Not everyone in the class is going to notice the things you do or learn things as quickly, okay? That means you have to be nice and try not to brag when you find yourself finishing work before everyone else or starting fights by saying things other kids will want kept quiet, understand?”

Charlotte nodded. “I know, Daddy. You and Mummy have been explaining this for the past week!”

Mycroft laughed. “We just want to make sure you’re fine here and don’t start hating school until the first month is up.” Charlotte giggled. “Love you.”

Charlotte wrapped her arms around Mycroft’s neck. “I love you too, Daddy.”

She ran in without another look back. Mycroft left and ran into Sherlock who apparently was working a case on the school grounds. “Mycroft, are you…crying?!”

Mycroft swept at his eyes and indeed saw tears where his fingers had touched his cheeks. He smiled and Sherlock looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You’ll understand when you have kids,” he simply said as he walked away.

“What? What did I miss?! TELL ME!” Sherlock yelled at the retreating figure.

Mycroft just laughed to himself and thought about what he was going to do to make the house sound less empty while he was working until he could pick up Charlotte.


	4. Well-Dressed Men Aren't Meant for Camping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next prompt is from Random Person: Please do whatever comes to mind with this line:  
> Molly is outdoorsy, nature hates Mycroft.  
> I did what I could. Fair amounts of Mycroft-whump in this. Don't like it don't read it.

Molly was driving with grim determination on her face as Mycroft sat next to her scowling and giving her the silent treatment. Finally, Mycroft broke the silence. “Well, that week couldn’t have possibly gone any worse.”

“It could have gone a lot better if you weren’t whining.”

Mycroft crossed his arms and stared out the window. “This isn’t the quickest way home.”

“We’re not going home yet.”

The whole car suddenly reminded Molly of a death trap. Mycroft was just staring at her. There was no emotion, not even irritation. It was a completely blank stare. Molly rolled her eyes and sighed. “We need to make sure none of your cuts, bumps, or scrapes are infected, and we need to make sure your wrist isn’t broken, as well as making sure that twisted ankle isn’t serious.”

“Well why can’t you do it?”

“Because I’ve had it up to here with your griping, and I don’t want to murder you if something bad happened and you say it was my fault!”

“It _is_ your fault for making us go camping!”

Molly sighed again and continued to drive. “We’re going to John’s clinic. Hopefully he can take care of everything.”

Mycroft started to shout and Molly just ignored him. Eventually he ran out of things to say and continued the sulking from before.

* * *

When they walked in the clinic and Molly asked for John, they had to wait a few minutes. While they were silently sitting in the waiting room, Molly looked over and asked, “Are you going to talk to John or am I going to have to sit in there with you and explain what’s wrong like your mother?”

Mycroft said nothing. John opened the door to his office as a patient walked out and checked to see who was next. Molly stood up and grabbed Mycroft by the shoulder. John’s eyes widened and let them in right away. All he could manage to ask was, “Wh-what happened?!”

Mycroft remained stubbornly silent. Molly just said, “Would you mind checking him over to make sure he’s all right? I don’t want to accidentally kill him if he accuses me for causing any of this. He has cuts over his arms and legs, a twisted ankle, he’s been complaining about his wrist, as well as hitting everything he can possibly hit. And I have a sneaking suspicion he got too close to poison ivy while looking a place to go to the bathroom, if you know what I mean.”

John was torn between snickering and practically fainting in shock of the notion of Mycroft actually being dragged along camping. “Wow. Um…okay. Okay…”

John turned around quickly and grabbed some bandages as well as disinfectant. When he turned back Molly had rolled up Mycroft's shirt sleeves, revealing some rope burns and a few very deep cuts, and several shallow scratches. Mycroft wouldn’t meet his eyes. “How did these happen?!”

Molly sighed and said, “It’s a long story.”

“Well, you’d better start talking then.”

* * *

It was the first day of their camping trip and already Mycroft was being a big pill. “Honestly Molly, out of all of the things you could have chosen for our vacation, why did you have to choose camping?”

“Mycroft, this is going to be nice. A week away from any responsibilities or people is good for you.”

“Are you sure you weren't dropped on your head when you were a child?”

“Shut up and tie our food bag in the tree.”

Mycroft grabbed the trash bag filled with their only food they brought for an entire week, a few cans of ravioli and other non-perishables, and threw it over a tree limb and grabbed the rope it was tied to and tried to lift it off the ground, but it was surprisingly heavy. He had to wrap the rope around his arms to get good leverage on it. “I still don’t see why we have to do this.”

“It’s so other animals can’t get into it…” Molly turned around and exclaimed, “Mycroft, don’t do that, you’ll hurt your arms!”

As if Molly were magic, Mycroft lost his grip on the rope and it unraveled on his arms very quickly, leaving angry red marks on his arms. “What did I just tell you!” Molly scolded. She hoisted the bag up, tied the rope on a lower branch, and went to inspect his arms. She gently touched one on the burn and Mycroft cursed. Molly shook her head. “I think I have something for treating burns in the first aid kit.”

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Mycroft muttered.

“You’ll change your mind.”

“No I won’t!” Mycroft yelled at Molly’s back as she went to fetch the first aid kit.

* * *

“Well, okay. That explains the burns. How did he get all of these scratches on his arms?”

“They’re on his legs too.”

John rolled up Mycroft’s pant legs to see the same kind of scratches he found on his legs. He dabbed some disinfectant on them and Mycroft hissed. “How long has he been relatively unresponsive like this?”

Molly shrugged. “Since I told him we were coming here. Besides that, it was when he wasn’t looking where he was going as we were leaving and ran straight into a tree. The last thing he said was, ‘I hate nature,’ and then he was sulking for most of the car ride.”

John nodded absentmindedly and bandaged Mycroft’s legs like he’d done with his arms. “How did he get those scratches?”

“Several squirrels and a particularly aggressive chipmunk.”

“You’re joking right?”

“I’m afraid not…”

* * *

“Come on, Mycroft. At least we have something to eat besides ravioli now!”

“Fishing is boring and disgusting alternatively.”

Molly lowered the net of fish they’d caught. “Stop being so negative, hon. We only have two days left of vacation time, it’s high time you relaxed.”

Mycroft huffed.

When they got back to the camp site, they saw a bunch of different small animals eating food out of a tear in their food bag. Mycroft groaned and went closer to shoo them away. Almost all of them ran away, except a few squirrels and a chipmunk. When they didn’t leave he took the food they were eating and made to throw it away when all of them lept onto his legs and arms in an attempt to get their prize back. Molly laughed despite herself as Mycroft flailed to get them off. The squirrels made some deep scratches on his arms and legs, and the chipmunk was running all over him scratching anywhere he could find purchase. Mycroft threw the food into the woods and the rodents chased it. Molly was doubled over laughing as she came over with the first aid kit…again. “Good thing I packed a shot for rabies!” she giggled.

“Shut up!”

* * *

“I’m wondering if he received some brain damage during this trip.”

Molly nodded. “I’m really worried. He didn’t even sulk this much that time Sherlock tricked him into smoking an exploding cigarette, and then I thought he’d never come out of his room!”

John leant back and said, “I can’t check anything else until he becomes responsive. Any way we can do that?”

Molly shrugged and said, “Maybe before, but now I think we might have to wait it out.”

“Right.” John grabbed Mycroft’s ankle and gave it a firm tug.

“OW!”

“Glad to see you back in the land of the lucid,” John said trying not to smirk.

Mycroft rubbed his ankle. “What was that for?!”

“Checking if it’s twisted. Doesn’t seem particularly nasty, a few days off of it and it should be good as new.”

“Ow…”

“Mycroft, can you turn your wrist for me?”

“What?”

“Can you turn your wrist-“ John mimed the motion, “in a circle?”

Mycroft tried but couldn’t get more than halfway without wincing. “You’re going to need some x-rays to make sure, but I think it’s broken.” He pulled out another wrap of bandages and started securing Mycroft’s ankle and foot. “Other than that, all I can say is ibuprofen, plenty of rest, and no more going near-catatonic.”

Molly thanked him and started to help Mycroft up and out the door.

“Oh, one more thing!”

Mycroft turned his head back to show he was listening.

“Don’t go camping again.”

Mycroft sighed and said, “It wasn’t even my idea, why am I the one who’s punished for it?!”


	5. Deduce, Delete, Deduce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter was requested by a Guest reviewer on Fanfiction (still trying to get you guys up to speed) who asked:  
> Sherlock keeps deducing and deleting Mollcroft, then deduces and deletes again.  
> This one could be counted as something I could use for the 30 Day OTP challenge, because of the ending, but...I have other plans for that.

The first time he saw it Sherlock thought he’d imagined it. Mycroft had come with him to the morgue to help prepare the body of his look-alike just in case. Mycroft’s hand brushed Molly’s as they left, and Sherlock could have sworn he saw their fingers catch for a second too long. The thought of them being a couple being too disturbing for Sherlock to process, he pushed it out of his mind and deleted it when doubt brought it back.

The second time was much more obvious. Mycroft and Molly were sharing Mycroft’s umbrella, walking down the street to a local restaurant. They were talking and occasionally verbally sparring, and Sherlock saw Mycroft smile a few times and Molly’s jokes. Sherlock froze and made a face. Mycroft looked over, winked at him, and kept talking with Molly. Sherlock deleted it as soon as they were gone, and was curious to why he was feeling nauseous the rest of the day.

Mycroft kept on sending him looks the next time they were planning for facing Moriarty. “What are you looking at? None of these plans leave any room for anyone to be in danger, and it’s fairly obvious with a little work Moriarty’s web can be dismantled!”

Mycroft realized Sherlock must have deleted his relationship with Molly, and stifled the urge to do anything more than give the twitch of a smile. He went back to looking at the papers, relief flooding him when Sherlock continued his erratic pacing and soon left. He sighed, knowing sooner or later Sherlock was going to remember and then he’d never hear the end of it.

The next time Sherlock found out would be forever seared into his brain, no matter how hard he tried. He barged into Mycroft’s office, to find Molly holding Mycroft by his tie in a kiss. But rather than struggle, Mycroft was returning the kiss enthusiastically. Sherlock let out a squeak and the two looked up to see their unwanted visitor. Mycroft quickly straightened out his suit and Molly re-did her ponytail, finding the floor suddenly interesting. Sherlock’s eyes were wide as saucers as he made choking noises trying to speak. His eyes rolled up in his head and he fell backwards in a swoon worthy of an Oscar. Molly and Mycroft just stood frozen for a minute, until Mycroft finally said, “Well, he’s not deleting it this time.”

Molly shoved him and soon Sherlock was resting outside the door and they were back to snogging.


	6. Learning to Ride A Bike

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt is from ally on ff.net:  
> I love those ficlets! Anyway, more dadcroft would be cute! :)  
> This is in the same universe as First Day of School.

Mycroft, Molly, and Charlotte were on the street outside of Mycroft and Sherlock’s parents’ house, teaching Charlotte to ride the bike her grandparents had gotten her for Christmas. Molly had the camera, and Mycroft was holding Charlotte on the bike, keeping her balanced. “Charlotte are you ready?”

“Yeah, Daddy. I’ve got my helmet on, and the knee and elbow pads you make me wear. This is going to be fun!”

“Your first time without training wheels and you’re not scared? That’s very brave of you.”

“Being brave isn’t not being scared, daddy. It’s being scared and knowing what you have to do anyway.”

“Mycroft, have you been watching Doctor Who with Charlotte again?” Molly said with a smile. She wouldn’t tell either of the others, but she already had the camera on and recording, to get before and after reaction-shots of this whole escapade.

“No, Grandpa and Uncle Sherlock have!” Charlotte said helpfully.

“Are you trying to help Mummy or are you just stalling?” Mycroft teased.

“…stalling…” Charlotte said after a pause.

“Because you’re trying to make me feel better.”

Charlotte tilted her head back, auburn hair almost halfway down her back as she gave a lopsided grin she got from her mother. “Yeah. I’m ready to not be afraid, but you’re not letting me not be afraid ‘cause you’re so afraid.”

Molly laughed. “You’ll have to say that slower when we go back inside so I can figure out exactly what you meant.”

“It means,” Mycroft said as he started to shove her forward, “That she’s ready to go.”

Molly jogged slowly next to Mycroft and Charlotte, and soon she was losing ground behind them. “Let go, Daddy, let go!” Charlotte yelled.

“Not yet!” Mycroft said.

Charlotte pedaled faster and soon Mycroft couldn’t keep up. As soon as his hands left her shoulders she was laughing. “This is fun!”

“Careful!” Molly called as she slowed from a jog to a stop.

Charlotte turned around and almost lost her balance but somehow remained upright until she got back to her parents, grinning like crazy. She slowed down and fell sideways, one leg trapped under the bike. “And that is why you wear the kneepads,” Mycroft said as he lifted the bike off her.

“Can we do that again?” she asked.

A rattling came from behind them and they heard Sherlock say, “I’ll race you to the bottom of the hill, and win!”

Charlotte giggled and said, “You’re on!” as she hopped back onto the bike and started to pedal away with Sherlock catching up behind her.

Molly turned off the camera and said, “Let’s go inside. They’ll be back soon enough.”

Mycroft nodded and followed her, casting one last glance over his shoulder to see Sherlock at the edge of the horizon struggling to stay balanced on an old bike he had as a kid. He chuckled. “And Sherlock will probably have scraped both his knees in the process.”

Molly laughed from the door-frame as she pulled her husband in for one last kiss away from the eagle eyes of his mother.


	7. Fighting Over Boys

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Almost halfway to being caught up, guys! Empire of Fiction said:  
> Hey, you said you needed prompts and I don't know if you've had these yet. Could you please do Charlotte's first boy/girlfriend and her parents' reaction as well as Mycroft and Molly's first major fight with Charlotte?  
> This one's a bit straying off point, but the general point is still there. Same universe as First Day of School and Learning to Ride a Bike.

Charlotte walked into the Holmes house after a particularly long week of school and dropped her back just inside the door. “I’m home!” she called into the house which she expected only to just have her mum in it. But she heard a sharp, “Don’t move!” From the study and sighed.

Mycroft walked out, took one look at her, and said, “Absolutely not.”

Charlotte groaned and said, “But he’s really nice and when I warned him about you he didn’t even flinch!”

Molly walked into the hall and asked, “Who’s really nice?”

Mycroft turned to her and said, “Charlotte’s started dating that Luke boy.”

Molly took a second to think it over and simply said, “No.”

“What?! WHY?!”

“Luke may seem nice, Charlotte, but I’ve seen the way he looks at girls, and as soon as he sees another you’ll be forgotten. You don’t deserve to get your heart broken by the likes of him.”

“And his father has a long criminal record.”

“Daaad…” Charlotte groaned.

“No.”

“But-“

“No.”

“Too bad.”

"Charlotte Lily Holmes you are not dating him!"

"You can't stop me."

Molly looked between the two and pulled Charlotte away into her room. “Charlotte, listen. I wouldn’t say this in front of your father…” she glanced up to make sure he didn’t follow them before she said, “I don’t think you should date Luke. I really don’t. But I’m not going to stop you, and when it comes time for you two to break up, I’ll be here with ice-cream and the cheesiest movies we can find to drown out the pain.”

Charlotte hugged her and said, “Thanks mum.”

“Of course, that’s not going to stop your father from following you on CCTV and kidnapping Luke and interrogating him.”

Charlotte laughed and said, “I know.”

“Are you going to still see him?”

“Tonight we’re going to the cinema.”

Molly sighed and smiled. “Want me to help tame your hair before then?”

“Yes, please.”

“Okay.”

When Mycroft saw her leaving with her hair in a nice braid and her make-up done he was just about to object but Molly bodily blocked him just long enough for Charlotte to slip out the door unnoticed and make a dash for the bus to meet Luke outside the theatre with two tickets to see a special running of the Hunger Games Trilogy. And it was worth every second that followed.


	8. Someone Always Cares

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt for this one, just something I wanted to write and post, which was the whole purpose of this collection. TW for depression and suicide/attempted suicide.

Molly didn’t know what went wrong. One day she was fine, the next her whole world felt shattered. Nothing even looked like it, she just got the feeling. She got up, went to work, did her job, came home. She felt numb to the rest of the world. She petted Toby as he hopped up onto her lap. _The feeling will pass soon enough,_ she thought. It didn’t.

Two months went by and she felt worse. She couldn’t be bothered to go out if she didn’t have work; any calls from her friends were sent to voice mail and deleted. Toby occasionally came over to her to try and get her to move around, but she wouldn’t do anything and after a while he’d just sit next to her and mew every so often. She knew this is what depression felt like, and she knew she had to cling to something to keep her going, but she couldn’t find anything. Sherlock had been gone for a year and she didn’t know when he’d be coming back, John always made her feel worse and guilty, and she hadn’t seen Meena for months, and didn’t want to just pop up out of the blue asking her for help and being a bother.

She scratched Toby’s head and got up. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to go somewhere. She put on her jacket and gloves and walked outside to see snow falling gently to the ground. She barely felt the cold as she wandered the streets looking for something, anything, to keep her occupied. Eventually she just stopped and sighed. There was nothing left for her. For the first time that night she really felt the chill of the air as it stung at tears which started dripping down her cheeks. She sat on the steps of a closed shop and placed her face in her hands. At this point, she didn’t even want to get up; she just wanted to sit for as long as it would take for her to just finish this useless struggle once and for all. She leaned back and watched the snowflakes fall from seemingly nowhere. She started feeling a little sleepy, but she couldn’t be bothered to move. She closed her eyes and let all feeling drift away…

When she woke up the first time her whole body hurt and the lighting in the room she was in burned the inside of her eyelids. She tried cracking them open only for the light to be too bright and she had to let them slide closed again. She heard a voice next to the bed talking to someone on the phone, but she couldn’t make out any words before she fell asleep again.

The next time she woke up she could actually open her eyes without feeling them burn, and even though she still felt stiff, she could turn or shift her body if she was slow and careful. She heard someone walk in the room and say, “Oh good, you’re up.”

Molly turned her head to see Mycroft Holmes standing in the doorway. “That was very stupid of you, you know. You almost died.”

Molly groaned softly and tried to sit up. Mycroft walked over and gently pushed her back down on the bed. She gave him a glare. He sat in the plastic chair next to her and said, “Sorry, if I can’t let you die, I can’t let you further injure yourself either.”

“Why?” her voice was hoarse.

Mycroft handed her the glass of water on the table but she didn’t drink from it. “I promised Sherlock I’d look after his ‘friends’ while he was gone, and somehow you committing suicide didn’t seem to fit into that category.”

Molly rolled her eyes and tried to speak again, “Liar,”

Mycroft winced and said, “Please, just take a drink. You’ve been asleep for 2 days, you really need it.”

Molly put the glass on the table with some difficulty and said, “Not until you tell me the real reason…why you did this. Making sure I didn’t die is one thing…waiting here until I’m awake is…another.”

Molly could have sworn she saw Mycroft blush. “Sherlock wanted to know when you woke up. As soon as I told him he was trying to think of a way to come back discreetly and make sure you were okay.”

Molly realized that was the closest she was going to get to the truth. Because while that may or may not be true, Mycroft was still holding something back. She took a small sip and grimaced. It was warm and almost tasted like antiseptic smelled. Mycroft took the cup from her and stood up. “I’ll see if I can’t get you a fresh glass,” he muttered. Just as he was about to leave, he turned back and said, “Molly? Don’t forget that someone always cares. Just…get the help you need. Don’t think there’s one person you know who would rather want you dead.”

He practically ran out of the room, blushing hard. Molly blinked. Did Mycroft…just say he cared about her? …She supposed she wouldn’t know unless she stayed around a little while to find out. As soon as she was released she made an appointment with a psychiatrist to see if she could get past this place she soon found herself stuck in again. At least until she could ask Sherlock about certain things that happened…those last two sentences were the puzzle keeping her from doing anything like that again. She needed answers, and she wasn’t going to stop until she got them.


	9. Why Q Hasn't Been Around

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 4 chapters after this one until you guys are caught up with Fanfiction. Anyway, a reviewer called Random requested: Sherlock/James Bond crossover.  
> Molly and Mycroft have been together (secretly/openly, ever since or on/off whatever) they were pretty young, Q is their son.  
>  I really don’t know much about the Bond ‘verse, but I think I can manage a fluff piece with this…even though I have no idea what I’m doing.

Molly set out the pan of macaroni while Mycroft leaned against the wall and said, “Are you sure this is okay? I mean, we haven’t seen Quinten in years, what if he doesn’t even want to be here?”

Molly turned to look at him and sighed. “Mycroft, the whole reason we’re doing this is _because_ we haven’t seen Quinten in years. Either he’s been busy during his birthday or you’ve had to take an emergency call ever since he was in Uni, and we are taking the one chance we have to see him and throttling it until he never wants to see us again.” She walked over and kissed him. “I’ve loved you since I first set eyes on you, somehow I don’t think Quinten is going to feel any different about his dad. You’ll be fine.”

“Well if I’m going to be fine you’re going to flourish.”

Just then the doorbell rang and Mycroft walked over to get it. Outside were Q and another man who had brown-blond hair and blue eyes. “Dad, this is the man who’s been keeping me from visiting all these years. I thought it was high time he apologized.”

The man held out his hand and said, “Bond, sir. James Bond.” He turned his head and said, “Well, Major, to be honest this wasn’t what I was expecting at all.”

Q smiled and said, “Then my mom is going to make you do a double take.”

He led Bond in and took Mycroft off to the side. “He doesn’t know my real name. In my job I go by Major Boothroyd, and I’m the head of the ‘Q’ division, so he calls me Q, but that’s as close as I want him to get, at least tonight. I know mom will just assume I’ve told him and she won’t call me by name since it’ll be obvious she’s talking about me.”

Mycroft nodded and smiled. “Glad to see you made something of yourself then, Major.”

He flushed and looked down. “To be honest I wasn’t sure if you’d approve since I haven’t seen you around.”

“To be honest I’ve been staying out of your way so you could make your own way in the Secret Service.”

A bridge built between them, they walked into the kitchen where Bond was talking to Molly and laughing. “Q, your mother is something else!”

Molly blushed and said, “I’m really not.”

“I’d have to disagree,” Mycroft said, giving her a peck on the cheek. “You’re most definitely something.”

They soon sat down and had dinner, in a silence that was a touch uncomfortable but nowhere near unbearably awkward. Q was the first to speak, “So I’m sure you guys have questions for each other…”

Bond cleared his throat and said, “Well…what exactly do your parents do?”

Mycroft said, “I work in the British Government as well. Completely different division, though, and it’s hardly significant like Q here. Despite what his uncle Sherlock would say.”

Molly smiled and said, “I’m a pathologist who works part-time at Bart’s.”

Bond nodded and said, “Well, since work has been keeping Q here from seeing you, and I’m work, I guess you know what I do.”

Q rolled his eyes. “I think that would be fairly obvious to them, yeah.” Bond shoved him.

The rest of the night went like that until Mycroft slipped up to their bedroom and came down with a single red box tied with blue ribbon. “You didn’t tell me it was your birthday; I would have gotten you something!” Bond exclaimed.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you,” he replied as he opened the box. Inside was a simple silver pocket watch with a cursive Q engraved on the front. Q laughed. “Wow, thanks, dad.”

Mycroft smirked and said, “Well, your mother’s the one who insisted on the engraving.”

“Yeah, and you weren’t about to object, were you?”

“No,” Mycroft admitted.

Molly gave Q a hug and asked, “I don’t suppose you could stay the night?”

He smiled apologetically. “Sorry, mom.”

She led him and Bond to the door. “Come back sooner next time. I don’t want to only see you every 5 years; I want to see you grow up.”

“I am grown up!”

“Not to me you’re not.”

He gave her one last hug to placate her and walked off with Bond next to her. “I told you that you shouldn’t have come.”

“Well you were wrong. And you’re family isn’t weird. Your mom is sweet, and your dad might just be the most normal man I’ve ever met.”

Q chuckled. “Oh, you have no idea.”


	10. The Christmas to Remember...Sort Of

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...next prompt was submitted by jazz from you guessed it, Fanfiction.  
> Anyway, if you're still taking prompts, I've been looking for someone to fill this for ages:  
> Mycroft OR Molly has to spend Christmas with the other's family. It doesn't go as smoothly as expected.  
> This had me laughing for a while before I knew exactly what was happening. I hope you guys laugh too.

Molly pulled at the hem of her skirt as Mycroft drove their car to his parents’ house. “Are you sure this is a good idea?” she asked quietly.

“This is a horrible idea. We just have to play along because it was my mother’s.”

“You’re not helping. What if they find out?”

Mycroft looked over at her and asked, “Is there a bump yet?”

“No…”

“Do you get morning sickness?”

“No.”

“Then they never have to know you’re pregnant and we can both leave this holiday season unscathed.”

“They’re going to kill us if they find out.”

“Which is why they won’t find out.” He steals one last glance before he says, “Right?”

“Right…”

* * *

When Mycroft pulled up to the house, he opened the car door for Molly and said, “It’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

He grabbed their shared suitcase and slammed the trunk, causing his mother to open the door to the house and rush out. Molly smiled politely and stuttered out a hello. Mrs. Holmes looked over at Mycroft, looked back at Molly, and said, “What did my son ever do to deserve you?”

Mycroft turned red and Molly smiled nervously. “He was willing to keep me company when I needed it and no one else would…” she trailed off, “In my opinion, I’m the one who doesn’t deserve him,” she blurted.

Mrs. Holmes smiled conspiratorially and invited them both in. Mycroft quickly put the suitcase in his old room, muttering, “It’s only 2 days,” under his breath like his life depended on it.

He walked into the kitchen to see Molly politely talking with his parents and he swallowed thickly. It hit him this is the first time he’s brought a girl home to meet his parents and he almost laughed. He’s not even remotely comfortable with this, but then again at least Sherlock didn’t get here before he did and figure out some way to make this more awkward than it already was. He heard another car outside and looked out the window to see Sherlock and John fighting about something-probably coming here-and Mary between them, trying her best to stay calm riding it out. A knock sounded on the door before Sherlock opened it and stepped inside saying, “Honestly, John, everyone is already here; you don’t have to knock.”

“It’s polite Sherlock, besides do you really want to scare everyone be sneaking silently into a room and then just start speaking?”

Sherlock crosses his arms and said, “Yes.”

Molly giggled as Mary walked in and rolled her eyes. She sat down next to Molly and immediately joined in the conversation. No one even acknowledged the three men standing awkwardly near the wall. Mycroft soon just left the room and retrieved his laptop to do some work. He got relaxed on the couch in the living room before he saw Sherlock enter from the corner of his eye. “What do you want, Sherlock?”

“Molly…and you…is that…she’s…the girl…?”

“Yes. Feeling uncomfortable because of that fact?” He looked up to see Sherlock looking somewhere between being sick and extremely offended.

Mycroft just sighs and goes back to typing on his laptop. “Did you know Molly’s pregnant?”

Mycroft’s head snapped up and he went, “What?!” not because he didn’t know, but because he genuinely thought Sherlock couldn’t figure it out.

“She has that same glow around her expressions Mary had when she was pregnant.”

Mycroft turned white and managed to say, “Does anyone else…know?”

“Molly herself might not know. Her…um…‘internal schedule’ might not have brought this to her attention yet.”

Mycroft closed his laptop and let his head sink into the back cushions. “The first day…” he muttered.

Sherlock was about to leave but he turned around again, a stunned look on his face. “What? Mycroft…I was joking.”

Mycroft sat up and turned whiter if it was physically possible. “Sherlock…”

“She’s actually-?! REALLY?! You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Mycroft jumped up and clamped a hand over Sherlock’s mouth. “Never speak of this, ever again!”

Sherlock wormed his way out of Mycroft’s grip and smiled mischievously. “Just wait until Mummy finds out!”

He dashed quickly back into the kitchen and Mycroft, thinking there was only one course of action left, ran up to hide in his old room and ride out the storm. He placed an ear to the vent near the ground, and could hear Sherlock’s low voice, then silence. He braced himself, and then he hear his mother crystal clear. “Well, I suppose I should talk to him then.”

He can hear the footsteps as they reach the stairs-he supposed it would be obvious he’d hide in his room-deliberately slow and measured. He stood up and smoothed out his suit as the footsteps stopped outside his door.

Everyone could hear the yelling downstairs without even straining to listen. Molly seemed to blanch, John and Mary looked over to Sherlock’s and Mycroft’s dad to see him wincing in sympathy, and Sherlock just stood there smiling smugly. When the yelling stopped and they heard footsteps coming back down the stairs, Sherlock simply said, “Congratulations, Molly,” before gliding out of the room.

Molly turned red as everyone turned to look at her and she ran outside the house to get away from the stares. She heard footsteps behind her and felt her being hugged from behind. She turned and gave Mycroft a kiss. “Some Christmas, huh?” she asked dryly.

Mycroft sighed and nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just embarrassed. You?”

“I just got chewed out by my mother. How do you think I’m feeling?”

Molly laughed and turned around in his arms to kiss him better. Mrs. Holmes walked out and said, “You two better not be making another baby out here!”

Mycroft let his forehead rest on Molly’s as he said, “No, I’m just helping Molly recover from Sherlock embarrassing her in front of everyone!”

Molly turned her head as much as she could before saying, “Trust me, we weren’t planning on anything!”

“This is just a very serendipity moment,” Mycroft muttered. Molly kissed him quickly after the door was once again closed. They heard a whistle from a window and saw Sherlock leaning out and smirking.

“Well, this will be a Christmas to remember,” Mycroft groaned.

“…Sort of,” Molly added.


	11. Sherlock...A Baby-Sitter?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, *rolls up sleeves* another Guest is next with:  
> For reasons Molly and Mycroft, due to taking a trip/something with their jobs/flu/having another baby any reason, need a babysitter for a few days  
> Officially Sherlock is babysitting but really their child/children are babysitting Sherlock.  
> We're so close to being done with catching up, then I won't spam you guys with chapters as much.

Mycroft opened the door to his and Molly’s flat relieved to see Sherlock standing on the doorstep. “Good, you’re finally here. Listen, Molly’s contractions? They’re the real thing.”

“How do you know?” Sherlock asked.

“Something about her water breaking gives me a good idea.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so do you think you could watch Will while we’re at the hospital?!”

Sherlock almost smirked at the desperation in his brother’s voice, and then he heard Molly screaming from somewhere in the flat and sobered up. “Yeah, yeah.”

“Thank you.” Mycroft rushed inside and moved to help Molly off the couch from where she was resting. They rushed out of the flat and Sherlock was left alone with a three year old boy sitting on an oversized chair. “Where’s Mummy goin’?” he asked.

“She’s going to get your new baby brother or sister,” he replied.

“Oh,” the boy sat staring at his hands for a moment before asking, “When’s she gonna be back?”

“I…don’t know.”

The boy nodded and looked around. “Uncle Sherlock?”

“Yeah?”

“Why was Mummy screamin’? Was she hurt?”

“…Yeah, sort of. Sometimes getting babies hurts.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. Only girls know.” He really didn’t want to give a 3-year-old “The Talk” while his mom was in labor.

“…You wanna play?”

“Sure. What do you want to play?”

“…Dunno. I was hopin’ you’d know somethin’.”

Sherlock nodded and stood up. “Well, let me see what I can find.”

He walked off into the flat with little Will trailing behind him. He spotted Mycroft’s office and started moving towards it and was about to open it when Will tugged on his pant leg. “Uncle Sherlock, my room has the games, an’ that’s not my room!”

Disappointed his plan was for the moment thwarted; he just followed the boy to his room and watched as he opened a treasure-chest style box at the foot of his bed. He pulled out a bucket of little green toy soldiers and held it up. “Wanna?”

“Sure.”

They split up the soldiers and started to line them up. Sherlock noticed Will using some tactical positions that would be executed in the army today, and realized since Mycroft now worked from home for the most part, of course he’d either teach Will the real tricks or he’d pick them up on his own when they were playing together. He got a text from John. _What are you doing? I thought there was a case? –JW_

_Molly’s water broke. Taking care of the nephew. –SH_

_OK. How exactly are you doing that? –JW_

Sherlock takes a picture of the play battle field before moving some of his soldiers around to take out one of Will’s flanks. A minute later he gets another text. _Whose soldiers are closer in the picture? -JW_

_Mine. Why? –SH_

_I need to see this for myself. –JW_

_Why?! –SH_

_John. –SH_

_JOHN! –SH_

_John, why do you need to see it?! –SH_

Not getting a reply, Sherlock turned back to the soldiers and was shocked to see that Will had surrounded him while he was texting, even though he kept moving and attacking. Will smiled at him before completely obliterating his last defenses. A knock was heard at the door and Will yelled, “I’ll get it!” dashing off to see who was there.

He leapt up and grabbed the handle, using his weight to pull it down then pushing off the wall to bring the door open. He dropped to the ground and went back in front of the door to see who it was. “Who are you?” he asked.

“I’m a friend of your Uncle Sherlock’s. I texted him and he said he was here watching you?”

Sherlock finally walked out and seeing John, waved him in. John walked in and Will pushed the door shut behind him. John looked him over and said, “You look a lot like your dad.”

Will brightened and said, “You think?”

“Yeah, and I hear your mom’s going to have another baby?”

Will nodded his head. “Yeah! I hope I get a little brother to play with! But I think it’d be fun to read to a little sister, too!”

John smiled. “Looks like you’ll be happy either way.”

Will nodded. Then he remembered what he was doing before John came to the door and rushed to his room, picking up all of his soldiers back into the bucket and bringing them out. He held it out to John and said, “Wanna play soldiers with me?”

John smiled at the boy and said, “Sure. I’m pretty sure I’d be good at it since I was a real soldier once.”

Will looked up at John with a new sense of respect. “Cool!”

John sorted out the soldiers into three piles and chuckled. “I guess when you’re not about to get hurt it is pretty cool.”

The three took up their soldiers on the floor and started to line them up. Sherlock took the ones who in life would do the most damage and put them in the center, while John went with small groups each with the same number of soldiers in different poses, so he could take Sherlock out with a well-rounded team. He glanced over at Will and was surprised to see another commonly used formation like in the picture Sherlock showed him. “That’s a good formation, Will.”

The boy looked up and smiled. “Thanks. Dad used it once and beat me really quick, and I’ve been practicing it so I can surprise him. He doesn’t know I ‘member all his tricks.”

Sherlock looked over at John with his eyebrows raised in question. John looked back at him and nodded. Will sat looking at them, waiting patiently for them to start. After a silent debate, they turned back and started.

* * *

Mycroft walked up the steps to the apartment the next day blearily and unlocked it with his key. He stepped in and wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting, but everything was in its place and spotless. He sighed and fell face-first onto the couch, groaning. He felt someone poke him, so he propped up on his elbows to see Will staring at him. He ruffled the boy’s hair and sat up. “Hey, Will.”

“Where’s Mummy?”

“At the hospital. I came to get you so you could see her.”

“Is she okay?”

“When I left she was resting. But she’s okay, and she has a surprise waiting for you. Where’s Sherlock?”

“Bathroom.”

“Ah.”

“I kept him out of your office for you!” Will offered cheerily.

“He didn’t do anything while I was gone, right?”

“Right!”

“That’s my boy,” Mycroft smirked, leaning back.

He saw Sherlock exit the bathroom and walk over. “I take it I’m dismissed.”

Mycroft nodded. “I think I can take it from here.”

“Up all night?”

“Yeah…but Molly requested Will be there, and who am I to deny an exhausted wife something?”

Sherlock snorted and called over his shoulder as he left, “Oh, and John wanted me to tell you that if you keep teaching Will military formations he’s going to show him Marry Poppins next time.”

“Consider me warned,” Mycroft said, rolling his eyes. He stood up and Will jumped onto his back, saying, “Let’s go! I wanna see Mummy!”

All three left the house and Mycroft strapped his son into the backseat of the car and went to the hospital, Sherlock saying he’d take a cab to bother them in a little bit. When they got to Molly’s room, Mycroft knocked softly as Will ran up and climbed onto a seat next to Molly. She looked over at him and smiled. “Hey, Will,” she said softly. “Did Dad tell you I have a surprise for you?”

“Yeah, what is it?” Will practically vibrated in excitement.

Molly sat up and showed Will a little blue bundle. “Say hello to your little brother.”

“What’s his name? I mean, I’m named after Uncle Sherlock…but is he named after someone?”

“He’s named Ben.”

“Hey, I said to name him that!”

Molly smiled. “We know.”

Will reached out a hand, then hesitated. “You might not want to hug him, but you can touch him if you want,” Molly said.

Will obliged and smiled. “I’m a big brother!” he whispered excitedly.

Molly looked over at Mycroft and asked, “How did it go with Sherlock?”

Mycroft gave her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. “Will’s a better sitter than we could have ever hoped for.”

Molly smiled and Mycroft took their new son from her, letting her sleep for now.

Sherlock was about to go in, but looking in on the scene he decided to let them have their moment. He could annoy them after they had some time to adjust to their new member of the family.


	12. Never Tick Off a Holmes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Go Mollcroft said:  
> Question/prompt, if Sherlock were to use or bring his Niece on a case or for an experiment, preferably a no damage done but still unhappy parents thing, which should Sherlock be more scared of Mycroft or Molly?  
> Personally, I don’t know who he should be more scared off, Mycroft would get really aggressive, but Molly would probably get passive-aggressive, which could be much worse or much better depending on how she went about it. Same universe as First Day of School, Learning to Ride A Bike, etc. but set before Fighting About Boys.

They were walking back to Baker Street before Charlotte spoke. “You do realize you’re a dead man walking, right?”

Sherlock scoffed. “Please. It was even that gruesome a case. Just a cover-up murder made to look like suicide. There wasn’t even any blood!”

“They don’t care about the blood. Remember Mum took me to work that one time. The problem I think lies in the fact you took me to a _murder scene_ , where someone could have been watching and threatened everyone with a gun or a knife or something after realizing the police were on to him.”

Sherlock opened the door to 221 for Charlotte and said, “Then they shouldn’t have left me in charge of you. Who would be that stupid?”

“The boys at my school, for one!” Charlotte called back.

Sherlock walked up the stairs after her and they settled into 221B waiting for either Mycroft or Molly to come pick Charlotte up. She glanced around and found an old game of Operation. She held it up and Sherlock sighed. “Might as well,” he replied to the unspoken question.

They started playing and Charlotte turned out to be surprisingly adept at it. “Your dad is terrible at this,” Sherlock remarked.

“Yeah, well, my mum’s a pathologist, I’m used to doing dissections and things with her.”

Sherlock tilted his head to the side and shrugged noncommittally. He heard a throat clear from the doorway and sat up from where he was trying to get the Writer’s Cramp piece. Mycroft walked into the room and Charlotte grabbed her bag. “Are we going? Or at least me? Something tells me a certain someone in this room will be injured before the day is done.”

“Actually, we’re leaving now.”

“Really? That’s uncharacteristically kind.”

Mycroft smiled. “Your mum will be dealing with him.”

“Ooh! That’s gonna sting!” Charlotte said with a giggle. She couldn’t help feeling happy at the thought of Sherlock getting in trouble with Molly.

“Please, I’m not afraid of Molly!” Sherlock stated.

Mycroft shared a knowing smile with Charlotte and walked out, leaving Sherlock to wonder why he’d just leave something this big to Molly.

* * *

The next time Sherlock was at the morgue, he saw Molly finishing up the last corpse of the day and walked over to her. “Ah, Molly, just the person I was hoping to see…”

Molly turned around and gave him a glare that was clearly not as intimidating as she was trying to make it. Sherlock continued unfazed. “I was wondering if you had any extra eyeballs lying around.”

Molly shook her head and said, “Sorry.”

Sherlock was taken aback. “I thought you always had extra eyeballs. The people who get cremated-“

“They’ve changed some of the rules and regulations. Sorry, can’t help.”

“Any thumbs?”

“No.”

“Feet?”

“Sorry.”

“Severed heads?”

“Your privileges have been revoked.”

“For what?”

“Well, if you can’t take proper care of an 11 year old and you risk her getting murdered, the morgue can’t trust you with human remains. They just kind of figure you’ll create your own.”

“Is that what this is about? Listen Molly, it’s not that big of a deal…”

“Well, you may see it that way but the directors of this morgue don’t. So I’m sorry, but you’ll have to go somewhere else until you regain your privileges. They don’t even want you _in_ here for at least another week. So are you going to leave on your own or will I have to kick you out?”

Sherlock huffed and stormed out, and it was only later that he remembered Molly was recently promoted to one of the director’s positions. He pulled out his phone and texted Mycroft. _Your wife isn’t letting me in the morgue. –SH_

_Good. –MH_

_I think she called Mummy too. –MH_

_?!?! She wouldn’t!!! –SH_

_I heard her on the phone. –MH_

_Looks like I’m not the one you should be afraid of anymore, Sherlock. –MH_

_Noted. –SH_

_Now since I do have to keep an eye on Charlotte again next week, can you keep her from attacking me verbally/physically when I get there? –SH_

_Depends on your behavior for the next week. –MH_

_And if I don’t? –SH_

_Well then I’ll help her in her revenge. –MH_

_She did this on her own? –SH_

_She wouldn’t even tell Charlotte. –MH_

_Good luck. –MH_

Sherlock turned off his phone and sighed. He resolved to add Molly to the list of Holmes’s he should never tick off. He wasn’t sure he’d survive the month otherwise.


	13. Love Is Giving Up the Last Piece of Cake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is yet again from a Guest who says:  
> Mycroft giving the last piece of cake to his toddler daughter.  
> Bonus for Sherlock been a troll having taken the second last piece.  
> And I’m assuming that means that Charlotte is being requested for another appearance. You know the drill. Same universe as First Day of School, Learning to Ride a Bike, etc. but obviously before all of that.

It was Charlotte’s first time really celebrating a birthday that wasn’t her own, being 18 months old and deemed old enough to sit in a highchair at the table holding everyone else. It was Mycroft’s birthday being celebrated, and Molly had stubbornly invited Sherlock over, who naturally invited John who brought Mary with him. So they had six people celebrating Mycroft turning 40. In his opinion, this was three people too many. They had simple fettuccine noodles with alfredo sauce for dinner, not that he’d admit to anyone but Molly that it was his favorite, and were now sitting around a simple chocolate cake with two slices left. Charlotte had chocolate everywhere, but was humming the first few bars of Happy Birthday contentedly, so no one was about to say anything or do anything to interrupt her. Sherlock and Mycroft had two pieces of cake each while everyone else had one, and were now having a silent battle over the last two. Sherlock reached out and took one of the slices for himself, smirking and eating half of it quickly while saving the other half. The last piece really wasn’t anything more than a sliver, but Mycroft was planning on taking it before Sherlock could get to it. He had balanced it on a plate when Charlotte reached out and said, “Cay!”

Molly looked over at her and said, “You already had a piece of cake, Charlotte.”

Charlotte reached out again and whimpered, then tried to undo the latch on her highchair. Mycroft rolled his eyes and smiled. “Do you want the last piece of cake Charlotte?”

Charlotte looked up and nodded.

“Say please.”

“Plee?” Charlotte reached out again, looking hopefully at her father.

He placed the piece in front of her and she clapped happily, earning an “Aw,” from Mary and John, and a look of surprise from Sherlock.

Mycroft looked over at him expectantly. Sherlock delivered his answer quickly. “You never give up the last piece of cake. Never. Not even when it’s a dry yellow cake.”

“He does it to me all the time!” Molly said.

“Sometimes love is giving up the last piece of cake, Sherlock. Besides,” he said, rubbing a napkin over Charlotte’s face, “Do you really think she’s going to finish it?”

“Yes,” Sherlock deadpanned. “She’s already halfway through it.”

Everyone looked over at the girl happily eating fistfuls of chocolate cake. Indeed half of it was already gone, and Charlotte didn’t look like she was slowing down anytime soon. “Cake!” she exclaimed.

“Well I can see whose sweet tooth she got,” Sherlock said smugly.

“I know,” Molly said, “That was her first full word!”

Everyone clapped except for Mycroft who rolled his eyes. He saw a plate held up to him with a quarter of the cake still on it and Charlotte looking like she wanted to say, _You can have it if you want it._ He pushed back what little hair she had and said, “No, you have the rest.”

Charlotte smiled and hummed as she finished the last few bites. “Cake,” she muttered happily.

Mycroft leaned over and whispered, “Cake is good, huh?” into her ear like he was sharing a secret.

Charlotte nodded and laughed.


	14. The Christmas to Remember...Sort Of Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured I’d try my hand at this prompt from Guest:  
> You're going to do a follow up to chapter 10, are you? ;) You should! :)  
> I wasn’t planning on it, to be honest, but why not.

Mycroft and Molly walked back inside 10 minutes later. Mary walked up to Molly and gave her a hug. “Little bit of an odd way to find out, but Sherlock did practically announce my pregnancy on our wedding day, so don’t feel too bad about it.”

Molly laughed and returned the hug. “Yeah, well, just goes to show it’s hard to hide something that could get Mycroft into trouble from Sherlock.”

Mary whispered conspiratorially, “Don’t go near John for a bit. When he realized he looked like he was going to be sick.”

They both giggled. Mycroft walked into the living room and sank into the couch. “You had to open your mouth, didn’t you, Sherlock?” he grumbled.

Sherlock just laughed. “Your fault for not telling the difference between a prank and an actual discovery.”

Mycroft grumbled and let himself sink farther into the cushions. Molly came in and sat on Mycroft’s lap. “Trying to disappear again, love?”

Mycroft lifted his head up and said, “Well, I have a feeling the scolding has just begun. At least sitting like this I can be comfortable.”

Molly pulled him up to a full sitting position by his tie. “Don’t sulk, Myc. It doesn’t look good on you.”

He leant forward to kiss her. Sherlock gagged. Mycroft rolled his eyes. “Problem, Sherlock?”

“You two. That is never meant to happen.”

Molly turned to look at him and smiled. “Oh, so maybe you and I are a better pair?”

“What?” Mycroft and Sherlock said at the same time.

Molly turned to Mycroft looking him over and sending him a wink. “I guess you have a point, I mean, Mycroft is nice…and considerate…but I guess every once in a while nice and gentle doesn’t cut it.” She stood up and walked closer to Sherlock. “What about you? Are you exciting enough?”

Sherlock stood and backed up. “No…that’s not what I meant…!”

Molly tilted her head to the side. “I think that _is_ what you meant. What, worried Mycroft’s going to get jealous?” She laughed, “Come on…I wasn’t thinking about doing anything down here…”

Sherlock was backed up against a wall and shuddering. “M-Molly, come on, this isn’t funny…”

Molly smiled and pinned him. She stood on her toes and whispered into his ear, “Neither is tricking Mycroft into revealing I’m pregnant. Now go.”

Sherlock ran out of the room and Molly sat down next to Mycroft. He smirked and said, “You’ve learned a thing or two from me.”

Molly leaned her head on his shoulder. “Manipulation skills and being fed up are never a good combination.”

“True,” Mycroft said, wrapping an arm around her waist, “But now we have something good coming out of this Christmas.”

“I think Sherlock was getting us ‘protection’ as a Christmas present before he knew it was me.”

Mycroft laughed. “We need more Christmas dinners like this one.”

“But this one is terrible!”

“A good terrible, not a ‘Sherlock is being Sherlock’ terrible.”

Molly smiled. “I understand that. Want me to try that on John?”

“No, I think you’ve done enough with Sherlock…” Molly laughed. “No, I really don’t think he’s leaving his room until we leave.”

“We’re a double threat,” Molly joked.

Mycroft kissed the top of her head. “I wouldn’t want this any other way.”

“You’re not getting my slice of special Christmas-cake.”

“It was worth a shot.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“Shut up,” Mycroft muttered half-heartedly.

“Gladly,” Molly said, pulling him in for a deep kiss just as John walked in the room. He promptly rushed out to find a trash can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...Well, you guys are now caught up with Fanfiction with these oneshots. Posting will slow down for a while, probably. But don't forget, you can always drop me a line if you want to see anything!


	15. The Woman Mark 2.0

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Random is back on Fanfiction with another prompt:  
> Not really sure how to phrase this and it's kind of vague anyway, but would really like something were someone, Molly, Mycroft, Sherlock, Lestrade, Mummy Holmes any and all really, realizing that or reflecting on Molly been The Woman for Mycroft.  
> I did Molly and Mycroft (obviously), Sherlock, and Lestrade and John combined.

**Mycroft’s POV**

The day she left their house was the day he thought his life had ended. He didn’t respond to calls for a week, let alone get out of the house. He made a cup of tea and grimaced as he realized he made _her_ favorite, not his usual kind. She left because…because…well, he didn’t know why. She was there one day and the next she was distant. Then he tried to see if something was wrong, and she said no. And that was a problem, apparently, for her. How was that a problem? He took another sip and shuddered, pouring it down the drain. He went to his study and sat down inside, but couldn't bring himself to do anything. He just sat. Sherlock had Irene Adler as a crutch, and wound up paying for it, despite Mycroft’s warnings to stay distant. But he now knew it was hard to stay distant when you were hopelessly in love with someone. Yes, Sherlock may have had Irene, but Mycroft had Molly Hooper. “ _The_ Woman,” he chuckled. “Very clever, Sherlock. I can certainly see why that applies…” he pulled out his laptop and opened his e-mail. He sent out a message saying that Molly’s surveillance status could be dropped to minimum again. He wouldn’t need to keep an eye out for her anymore.

**Molly’s POV**

She thought she did the right thing when she left, and she didn’t see him for a while after that. But that one time…Sherlock needed his help for a case, and they both came to the morgue…and he was polite, civilized, even. But Molly could see in his eyes, it was all just a show. He was dead inside, just a shell of the person she’d left. As soon as he left after he told Sherlock what he needed, Sherlock turned to look at her. “Do you have any idea what you did to him the night you left?”

“This is the first time I’ve seen him since then. He looks like…you that one Christmas with that…woman.”

“Irene Adler?” He practically spat the name. “She’s different than you. And believe me, that’s a very good thing. You don’t mess around with The Woman and be the same man you were before.”

He left without another word. Molly thought about it. The Woman…could she have been that way to Mycroft? She didn’t think she had that much weight with him. Maybe she was wrong. But either way, she wasn’t going back. They didn’t work anymore. And that was that.

**Sherlock’s POV**

“So where’s Mycroft then? Haven’t heard from him in a week, that’s a bad sign,” John said.

“Busy.”

“Busy?”

“Sulking, I imagine.”

“Why would Mycroft sulk?”

“The Woman.”

“What? Irene Adler?”

“No, but his version of her.” Sherlock sighed and looked out of one of the windows.

“Who would that be?”

“Molly.”

“Molly. Molly Hooper? That Molly?!”

Sherlock nodded. “He let her in, and she broke his heart. I imagine he’s just trying to pick up the pieces now…”

“Why would Molly be that way for him?”

Sherlock didn’t respond. Mycroft had needed someone, and had gone to Molly. But when she realized it wouldn’t work, she just left. And he knew that the people with the hardest outer walls had the most sensitive hearts. And Molly had gone through Mycroft’s walls only to break his heart without reason was a near fatal blow for him. She was The Woman because he trusted her, and she had gone and betrayed that trust. The Woman 2.0. That’s what she was, Sherlock decided. Maybe he’d send Mycroft a text later. Maybe go so far as to call. But space was required now. And Sherlock was more than willing to allow that.

**John’s and Lestrade’s POV**

Sherlock didn’t respond, leaving John a little confused. Not that there was anything new there. He decided to text Greg.

_Heard from the British Government lately? –JW_

_No. Why, what happened? –GL_

_Sherlock says Molly. –JW_

_Makes sense. He did trust her more than he trusted anyone else, and then she walked out on him…Poor bloke. –GL_

_Sherlock is calling Molly The Woman, except for Mycroft. –JW_

_Again, no surprise there. She broke him. However unintentional it may be. –GL_

_Do you think she’ll ever go back to him? –JW_

_No. –GL_

_I don’t either. –JW_

_What do we do? –JW_

_Don’t bring it up to him, if he wants to talk about it, he’ll talk. I might take him to a pub to get the full scoop and report back. –GL_

_You’d take him to a pub?! –JW_

_I’ve done it before. He drinks so heavily he can have a couple glasses of whiskey and still be near sober. That guy has an iron grip on lucidity. –GL_

_So, basically, he’s your designated driver. –JW_

_I’ll get him drunk this time. Maybe it’ll help him. –GL_

_From what I can tell, there is no help when you’ve fallen in love with The Woman. -JW_


	16. The Only Child and The Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next prompt is from lilylaurence (again, on Fanfiction) who asked:  
> Question: Is there a reason for Charlotte being a single child (like Molly having medical issues) or does she get a baby sibling when she's a teenager? Fluffy or angst - I'd love to know that story. Keep the good work up! :) ! lily  
> And while the only reason is quite simply I felt Charlotte worked better as an only child, I can provide a backstory for it if that's what's needed. Same universe as First Day of School, Fighting About Boys, Love is Sharing the Last Piece of Cake, etc. Angst and feels in this chapter. You have been warned.

Charlotte walked out of school that one day, a question eating her from the inside out. She kicked at the ground and found a decent sized piece of gravel, then chucked it at the nearest CCTV camera. It swiveled around to see her, and she signed,  _Dad. You, me, and mom. 15 minutes. Period._

The camera turned back to where it was, and she turned to the road as a black car pulled up. When she opened the door, Anthea was inside, off her Blackberry for once. "You threw a rock at CCTV."

"Yeah."

"You never use that to get anything, period, and you make sure someone's keeping a close eye on you for weeks after this because of one meeting?"

"It's an important meeting," Charlotte shrugged. "What, did I interrupt a more important meeting?"

"Your dad was about to mediate discussions between two highly volatile nations-"

"When is he not?"

Anthea sighed. "You know I'm going to find out sooner or later, right?"

"It's just a balance of probability. But it's a very high, very  _life-changing_  balance of probability." Charlotte looked out the window. "And I need to know what's going on in a place where I can't just be ignored."

"You can be dismissed," Anthea countered.

"But not ignored. See? I've learned the ropes."

Anthea rolled her eyes and smiled. "There are people who have been in the government for years and they still don't know the ropes."

"Yeah, well, not everyone has Mycroft Holmes for a dad."

"Does that mean you've had to learn the loop holes from a very young age or you've inherited some genes that give you a predisposition for a higher IQ?"

"Exactly."

"You people…" Anthea said, getting out her phone.

The car slowed to a stop and Charlotte got out. She walked past every security guard in Mycroft's office building like she owned the place. They'd learned long ago that if she looked determined, it was best to stay out of her way. She walked into Mycroft's office where he was already sitting at his desk waiting for her. "Where's Mum?" it came out more of a demand then a question.

"3…2..." Mycroft counted down, "1…"

Molly walked in with a mug of tea. "So, what's this big emergency?"

She caught the look on Charlotte's face and she whitened. "Charlotte, what's wrong?"

"Am I an only child?"

"What are you talking about? Of course you are!"

"Don't lie to me. I know that doctors don't do C-sections for preemies for just anything. I'm perfectly fine, and you've said every time I asked that despite being born early, there weren't any major complications  _with me_. There was another baby, wasn't there?" She looked between her parents' stricken faces.

Mycroft took a deep breath before saying, "Sit down, Charlotte. There are things we need to explain to you."

* * *

Mycroft and Molly were at the pregnancy clinic, talking about anything and everything except what needed to be talked about. Finally, Molly asked, "So, do you think we've finally done it?"

Mycroft sighed. "We've tried everything short of having the doctors grow one themselves to put in you. If this didn't work, then nothing we can do will."

"Mycroft-" Molly started to say, but just then the doctor waved them into her office.

Closing the door behind them, the doctor smiled and said, "Well, Mrs. Holmes, you most certainly are pregnant."

Molly laughed and Mycroft sighed in relief. "There is, however, one thing we'd like to warn you about…" the doctor continued.

Molly looked concerned and said, "By all means, tell me!"

The doctor motioned to the couple to follow her, and she led them to an ultrasound room. "It's better if I show you."

They set up the ultrasound and the doctor turned it on. Mycroft's breath caught. "Is that…?"

The doctor looked at him and nodded. "It appears you have  _two_  children coming instead of just one."

"Twins…" Molly said breathlessly. "Is there any way to tell their genders yet?"

"Nothing is certain, but I believe you are going to have a boy and a girl."

Molly smiled up at Mycroft. "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes, just nervous for your sake."

"I'll be fine, Mycroft. I know we've had some trouble before, but I think these two might just be the ones who make it."

* * *

"So, wait…I have a secret brother that you never even told me about?!"

Mycroft and Molly said nothing. "Unbelievable," Charlotte muttered. "So what happened? Did you only want one kid and left him in the hospital or out on the streets to fend for himself? Or did you show mercy on him and just leave him at an orphanage?!"

Molly cringed and said, "None of the above."

Charlotte's eyes widened and said, "You didn't get-?!"

"No, Charlotte, we did not abort him." Mycroft intervened before Charlotte could even finish the thought. "Please don't skip to conclusions about anything just yet. At least hear the rest of the story first."

Charlotte huffed but let them continue, grudgingly curious about what happened to her brother.

* * *

It was 1 AM when Molly woke Mycroft up. "Mycroft…Mycroft! Wake up, I think I'm in labor!"

Mycroft startled awake and said, "Labor?! But you're not due for a month and a half!"

Molly's breath was quick as she said, "Well, explain that to these two! I think they've just gotten too big to be in there together!"

Mycroft nodded and helped her get up and to the hospital. The car ride was silent except for Molly's shallow, quick breaths. They got to the hospital and were immediately shown to a room. Their doctor came in and said that they could try a natural birth, but it could cause all sorts of complications for Molly and the twins. Molly told them to do a C-section instead and soon a baby boy and girl were both crying madly for their mother. However, it was soon clear that the two newborns had several problems, and were put in pediatric intensive care. Charlotte lasted the night; the brother, sadly, did not.

* * *

Charlotte sat in stunned silence as she let this new information sink in. "You never tried again…?"

Molly sighed and said, "They found out later that I had some scarring that prevented safe child-birth. We didn't want to risk losing another child."

Charlotte swallowed thickly and nodded. "You just didn't know how to tell me…it wasn't a big secret, it was just a sensitive issue…" she nodded again and blinked back tears. She took a shuddering breath and stood. "Okay, okay…no, you know what? It's not okay." She shook her head.

Molly came over to her and gave her a hug. Charlotte cried silently over her lost brother, then stepped back, rubbing her eyes. Mycroft stood up and said, "I need to show you something," leading her out of the office, texting someone as he did so. They walked in silence for a few blocks before stopping in front of a cemetery. She shook her head. "I don't want to," she muttered.

Mycroft opened the gate and said, "No one does. But it's time you saw."

They walked inside and stopped in the middle in front of a simple black headstone that said, "Michael Isiah Holmes" and a birthdate. Charlotte fell to her knees and started choking back tears. She was 15, she didn't want to deal with death like this for years. Mycroft leant down and gave her a hug as she started to sob. She never knew him, and that was what made it the most painful. When all her tears were spent, she stood up and took a shaky breath. "I want to go home now," she whispered.

Mycroft nodded and wrapped an arm around her shoulders as they walked out to a waiting car. When they got home, Charlotte wandered down to her room, and just sat on her bed for a while. Then she went over to her desk, and quickly made an origami lily, writing her brother's name on it. She pinned it to her wall and collapsed on her bed, falling asleep quickly from the events of the day. Molly came in to check on her, and saw the lily over her bed. She smiled. She and Charlotte talked about it the other day. When someone she loved died, she'd make an origami lily to remember them, writing their name on it, and hang it in her room as a sort of memorial of how they changed her. She closed the door again, leaving Charlotte to her rest. They could talk more tomorrow.


	17. The Cherry Blossoms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No prompt, it's just me again. Feel like a little cute fluff…and miscommunication, haha. So…shall we get started?

Molly was stuck in her routine and feeling particularly bored, so she decided to go out to a café for lunch for a change. It didn't do too much, but she felt a little refreshed when she went back to her office to check her afternoon jobs and she saw it. A simple pink flower on her clipboard. But not a live flower, an origami flower. A cherry blossom, if Molly wasn't mistaken. She picked it up and examined it closer. It looked like it was pressed, and was made of thin pink paper, not quite like tissue paper but very close. She turned it over to the back and didn't see anything written on the folds, or any other evidence of a hidden message. She made a half-huff, half-grunt, deep in thought, and placed it back on her desk. She didn't think of it again until she was leaving work and took it back to her house. Then she did a closer examination. From tip to tip, it looked to be 17 ½ cm (just short of 7 inches), and was a rose-pink. There were a few quick strokes of red paint near the center, to make it look a little more real. She shrugged, and placed the flower on the center of a low table, placing the small bowl she had there over it. She smiled. It looked nice. She made dinner, watched a little TV, and went to bed.

The next day she went to work again, and all thoughts of the origami cherry blossom had disappeared from her mind. When her lunch break came again, she quickly went to the canteen and brought back a sandwich to her office to eat in private. She sat down at her desk and started. There was another cherry blossom. She looked at it closely. It appeared to be the same size and color of the previous one, but the folds seemed a little surer, a little sharper. She looked closely at it, but still couldn't see anything besides the paint strokes on it. She placed it back on the desk, and quickly ate her lunch. Then she went to security and asked them to keep a keen eye on her office to see if anyone came in while she was gone getting her lunch. They looked over the tapes but can't find anything, so Molly went back to work, a little disturbed at the thought that someone could get into her office without being seen on camera and drop off an origami cherry blossom on her desk all without anyone noticing. And if they could do that, what could they do if they wanted to hurt her, or worse? She tried to get back to work, but by the time her shift was done, she was shaken enough to take a cab and lock her house door as soon as she was inside. This intruder was really getting to her. She shouldn't automatically assume the worse. With luck, whoever was breaking in to her office would stop since she contacted security. That was the only thing keeping her from being too frightened at this whole situation.

The next day at lunch she got another cherry blossom. But this one had writing on the folds.  _You shouldn't have called security._  She almost screamed. This had officially gotten out of hand. She gingerly picked it up and the other side said  _I just want to talk._  She threw the flower down like it had just caught fire for no reason. She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Sherlock.  _Sherlock, I need your help. –Molly_

_Why do you need my help? –SH_

_I think someone may be stalking me. –Molly_

_Hm…-SH_

_Should I come over or can you come here? –SH_

_Scratch that, I'll come to you. –SH_

Molly sighed and stepped out of her office to get some air. It only took 5 minutes for Sherlock to get to her, John on his heels. Sherlock got to her and she stuttered out, "I-in m-my office…it's b-b-been showing up f-for three days…"

Sherlock went in and John tried to keep her calm. "I only touched the flower," she called in after a minute.

Sherlock walked out with it and asked, "Where has it showed up?"

"On my c-clipboard. This is the f-first time there's been writing."

Sherlock hummed in thought. John looked over at him. "Anything?"

"We're looking for someone who's ambidextrous, but he doesn't use the opposite hand much, if at all, so the pen feels odd in his grip, making the letters a little shakier, but still better than most."

"He?"

"Obviously."

"…Obviously."

Molly rolled her eyes at the two. Sherlock looked over at her and stated, "Well, someone's definitely interested in you."

John took the flower and examined it for himself. He sniffed it and wrinkled his nose a bit. "It smells like cologne."

Sherlock took it back and took a good sniff. "Sandalwood, if I'm not mistaken."

Molly laughed sarcastically and said, "Great, someone's stalking me, sending me origami cherry blossoms somehow without any cameras catching him, and sending threatening messages to me through said flowers, but at least whoever he is has good taste in cologne!"

John snickered and Sherlock sighed. "I'll find out whoever's doing this, Molly. Don't worry."

Molly smiled. "I know you will."

"If you want someplace safe to stay, Sherlock never uses his bedroom," John offered.

Molly smiled and said, "I'd like that, thanks."

* * *

Molly took the rest of the day off, packing up some of her clothes and asking if the neighbors could cat-sit Toby while she was gone. Then she headed off to Baker Street and John directed her to Sherlock's room. She sat down on the bed, looking around. It didn't seem to be used much, there was only a poster of the periodic table to show that someone actually came in and used this room from time to time. She placed her suitcase at the end of the bed and walked back out. John saw her walked over, saying, "I'll just put the kettle on then, I guess?" he walked up close and said, "Sherlock's going through everyone we know knows you and your schedule enough to pull something like this off. Might want to stay out of sight for now."

Molly nodded and asked, "Would anyone see me on the steps leading above the living room?"

John thought about it and shook his head. "Not unless they were really looking and the door was open too much."

Molly smiled at him as he dropped the kettle, spilling hot water everywhere and causing a distraction for her to slip into the stairwell unnoticed. It looked like they were interviewing Greg to see if he knew anything. They asked a few more questions before Sherlock dismissed him. He walked past her not even realizing she was there. Several more people came and went, and Molly thought they were no closer to figuring out who had sent her the flowers than when they started, but then Sherlock called her in. He had her sit on the couch and started to pace, looking at the wall behind her. She saw he had plenty of sticky notes taking all the deductions on the flower across it, and a few printed articles, and several receipts, as well as a pamphlet for the cherry blossom festival held in Washington DC in America. She watched Sherlock pace for a while before she finally asked, "Sherlock…do you have anything?"

He looked at her like he was noticing her for the first time. "I think I know who's been sending you those flowers. But I want your help to catch them."

"Okay…how do I do that?"

"I'm going to call him in. All you have to do is close and lock the door behind him. John will be taking care of the fire escape outside my room, then we can get to the bottom of this."

Molly nodded and Sherlock quickly sent a text, then directed her behind the door. John went to Sherlock's room to secure the fire escape. Soon they heard rushed footsteps up the stairs and Mycroft ran in, panting. Sherlock was sitting in his seat with his violin, the picture of calm. "Hello brother dear. Have a seat." Sherlock gestured to the chair opposite.

"Sherlock, what's going on? Why did you send me a text saying you were in a potentially life-threatening position and needed my help?"

Sherlock sighed and said, "While it's true that someone here felt that there life was in danger, we're not talking about my life."

"I'm leaving." Mycroft made for the door and Sherlock nodded to Molly, who closed the door and bolted it, leaning against it. Mycroft just turned towards Sherlock's room, when he saw John exit, gun drawn and pointed at him.

Mycroft turned back to Sherlock who merely gestured towards the chair again and repeated, "Have a seat."

Mycroft walked over to the chair and sat down. Sherlock gestured to the wall where he had everything pinned and said, "Do you know what all of this is?"

"I might, if I didn't have a gun pointed at my back making me sit in this chair," Mycroft said darkly.

Sherlock gestured for John to put the gun away. John sighed but obliged. Mycroft got up and went over to the wall. His eyes didn't pick up the information one piece at a time, but took in several connections at once and then put it together in his mind in a more organized manner. He turned around and saw Sherlock had made an origami cherry blossom. "Busted. Someone evidently liked the cherry blossom festival while meeting the Americans, hm?"

Mycroft turned crimson. "What are you talking about, Sherlock? One of your cases? Are you saying I'm some sort of killer? And my weapon of choice is a paper flower? A paper-cut killer?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "No, I'm saying you've left these on Molly's office desk during her lunch breaks, and she's convinced that someone's stalking her."

Molly wouldn't meet Mycroft's gaze as it turned on her. Then she couldn't take it and looked up, saying, "Well, wouldn't you be concerned if someone came into  _your_  office leaving paper flowers and not showing up on the security system?"

"Yes," Mycroft said, "Because you need a special keycard to access  _my_  office."

John started toward everyone and asked, "So why did you do it?"

Mycroft turned crimson again and fell into a coughing fit. "No reason," he choked out.

"Unbelievable," Sherlock said, eyes wide. "Un. Believable. You have a crush on Molly and you don't have the guts to tell her?!"

Molly's eyes widened and Mycroft turned redder, if that was physically possible. "I will murder you, Sherlock!" he yelled.

Molly covered her mouth as she started to giggle. Then her whole body started to shake, and she could barely stand upright because of the laughter. She moved away from the door for a second, which Mycroft used as he unlocked and opened the door just enough to slip through. He ran down the stairs and out the door, feeling his cheeks burning almost as much as the back of his eyes. He bit his lip to keep the humiliation at bay until he was alone. He went to the Diogenes and hid in his private office there as he realized he was crying. There was a knock at the door and a butler appeared. "Pardon me, Mister Holmes, but someone brought a package for you."

He took it without even glancing at the man who came in. The man stopped in the doorway and looked back and Mycroft sent him a hard glare. "What? What do you want?" his voice cracked at the end. The man ran out and Mycroft ran a hand over his face. He hadn't lost his composure in years, why did it have to be today of all days he had to break that streak? And in front of Sherlock, no less. He'd live to regret today.

Eventually he opened the package and saw an origami flower crown.  _I was curious the other day and learned how to make these. Don't let Sherlock get to you, the flowers are sweet, albeit a little disturbing to think about how they get delivered. xoxoMolly =)_

Mycroft smiled and put the flower crown on his head. He chuckled and removed it, coming up with a plan of action for the next day.

* * *

Molly was back at work the next day, though still living in 221B under Sherlock's insistence until "everything blew over." She was walking to lunch when she saw Mycroft walking up to her, the flower crown she made on his head and holding another blossom, this time not an origami one. He held it out to her and she laughed. "I didn't think you'd actually wear it!"

He tucked the real cherry blossom behind her ear. She giggled like a school girl as she stood on her toes to kiss the man on the cheek. "Want to come to lunch with me?"

Mycroft smiled-not one of his fake smiles, or a cruel smile, a smile of genuine pleasure and happiness. "I'd love to," he replied.

The flower-covered couple continued out to lunch, and then the next day, and the next day. And soon enough it became an inside joke when one of them sent the other a cherry blossom. They'd not only be sending flowers that'd last, but they'd be saying 'I love you but don't want to tell you' with each one. And every time they got the flower, they'd joke with the other about making them say I love you out loud for the world to hear in public. And they wouldn't want it any other way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This didn't come out the way I wanted it, but I guess I'm not sure exactly how I wanted it anyway...so...


	18. That Came Out Wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next up is a request by Van39MaxKatAlex4, who requested:  
> Also could you do a story where Molly gets kidnapped and Mycroft comes in and is like Batman beating everyone up?  
> Fair warning: the "a" key on my keyboard has been a little stubborn, so I apologize for any typos that I don't catch! Oh, and also, a bit of dark!Mycroft, so…yeah.

Molly had been kidnapped. That's about all she knew of her situation. She had been kidnapped off the street after work and she'd been bound and blindfolded. She had the blindfold off now, and she was working to undo the ropes tying her to an old card table. She got them untied just as she heard gunshots. She quickly sneaked out of the room she was in, and found herself on the second level in a familiar warehouse where she and Mycroft had gone on dates before they were engaged. Now they mainly stuck to restaurants and movie nights at home. She couldn't see anything that was going on, but she heard a few more shots, so she found an old nook Mycroft had shown her once and hid behind it, trying to calm her breathing enough so that she could hear what was going on. There was another gunshot before everything became silent. Then there was a grunt and a thump, like a body hitting concrete. She heard someone laugh and say, "You're skills are impressive, Mr. Holmes. But do you think that they're enough to beat me and rescue your fiancée?"

She peeked out into the main area and saw Mycroft panting and glaring down at one of her kidnappers. The man was blocking most of the view, however, so she couldn't see the majority of Mycroft, or that there was a gun in his hand. He fired square into the man's shoulder before knocking the butt of the gun on his head. Molly hid back in the corner before she could get a good look at him, but she could hear him say, "You don't need many skills to fire a gun point-blank, or to knock someone out by swinging it hard. Clearly something they don't teach kidnappers anymore."

Molly heard more grunting and thought she could have heard some knives hitting the ground. She heard some frantic footsteps and Mycroft calling for her, before he stopped, seeming to realize there was only one probable place she could hide and walked over to her. She screamed as she saw him covered head to toe in blood. "Don't worry, it's not mine!"

Molly covered her mouth with her hands and shook her head. "That came out wrong…" Mycroft said before focusing back on her and asking, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, crying a little from the frightening sight in front of her. "You're absolutely…soaked…in blood…" she muttered.

Mycroft nodded. "Some is mine, but most is from broken noses, spattering gunshots, and a few quick swipes with a knife…And I just did it again, didn't I?!"

"Little bit," Molly managed.

"Well," Mycroft said, eyes drifting everywhere, "I can help you up or you can come out of there on your own…um…Sherlock is outside with half Scotland Yard, so…my…ah…appearance is going to come into question and I'd appreciate it if you didn't flinch every time you heard about it…" he shook his head. "If it would make the mention of this at all more comfortable, then…" he trailed off and asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

Molly nodded and got out of her hiding place, standing up and hugging herself tightly as she did so. "I might be in a bit of shock, but otherwise I'm okay."

They walked out together and were quickly separated in the surging crowd. Paramedics took Molly off, while officers held back Mycroft to figure out exactly why he was covered in blood. John came over to her and asked her in no uncertain terms what exactly happened in that warehouse. Molly just shrugged and said, "I was hiding during most of it. But I know that Mycroft can be very protective of people he loves. I wouldn't put murder past him if I actually got hurt instead of just being tied in a back room…"

John did a double take and Molly blushed and said, "That came out wrong…!"

"A lot of things seem to," Mycroft said as he walked up and sat down next to her on the back of an ambulance. "But that hasn't stopped us yet, has it?"

"Thankfully no." Molly smiled. "I'm ready to go home, are you?"

Mycroft sighed. "Yeah, I just have to make a statement first."

"Might want to leave out the fighting with guns and knives," Molly pointed out.

"What?!" John yelped.

Both of them turned as if they'd forgotten he was there. "It's nothing, John, really," Molly tried to reassure him. "Mycroft just gets a bit overprotective sometimes."

"Hey, I found you, didn't I?!"

"Yes, and I'm glad you did. I just could have gone without your Batman mode."

"'Batman mode?' What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, love." Molly rolled her eyes. "Just make your statement so we can go home."

"How do I explain the blood?"

"Say…um…say it's not blood, say it's actually brick dust and mud from the ensuing fight in the warehouse."

"Well, that's at least one thing that can't come out wrong." Mycroft got up to leave but Molly grabbed his arm. "Thanks for rescuing me."

"What sort of fiancé would I be if I didn't?" He kissed her cheek. "I'll be right back."

"Oh, and be sure to start the statement by saying, 'Don't worry, it's not my blood!'" Molly called as he walked away. He over-dramatically hung his head and turned around to fake-glare at her. "That just came out wrong!" he called back as she laughed. He knew she'd never let that one go.


	19. Matchmaker, Matchmaker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next prompt is from Guest on FF who asked:  
> Sherlock seeing the benefits of Mollcroft (for them or himself or both) Sherlock does what he can, overtly and covertly make the start of the relationship easier.  
> Example: Solving case that are 1-2 so Molly finishes work quicker to pointing out to Mycroft oh so causally while a certain tactic/manipulation might work on most (overpriced flowers/jewelry etc.) Molly maybe not so much.  
> And I see potential for a lot of humor. Which is good seeing as how a lot of the stuff I write has either been extreme fluff or angst and there hasn't been much in between. I need to write more domestics, and this is borderline so it's good practice. Allons-y!

"Mycroft needs a girlfriend."

Sherlock hadn't spoken in 3 hours so when he finally did speak-and about this, no less-John jumped and had to hesitate a second to let that sentence sink in before he could even think about a suitable reply. "And where did this thought come from, then?"

Sherlock looked over at John for the first time that day and said, "The way he's obsessed with his work and nothing else he won't last 5 years. And while most of the cases he brings me are trivial, occasionally he can find a 6, or even that one time he found an 8. No one else would even consider coming to me with that."

"What about Lestrade?"

"Most of his cases are only 4s or 5s. He doesn't understand my system."

"And Mycroft does?"

"He knows when I can take cases just for the distraction and when they need to be interesting. That saves a lot of time that could be used for other, more important things."

"So…who're you going to set him up with?"

"Mm…what about Molly?"

John choked on his tea. "Woah. No, no! If you set up Mycroft with Molly, leave me out of it! I don't want any part of that!"

Sherlock crinkled his brow. "Why not?"

"Do you really think she'd like Mycroft? He's like…you, except he's subtler with the disdain and insults."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "It doesn't need to be for too long, just one or two dates."

"Still, I want to be kept out of it."

"Just don't text either of them what I'm doing and you won't have to be part of it."

"Deal."

* * *

Molly was a little concerned about Sherlock. He'd been coming in every day there was a body for any case lately, even if it was only a 1 or a 2. When she confronted him about it, he simply shrugged and said, "Not my fault there hasn't been an interesting case in ages," and glided out the door.

Molly pulled out her phone and sent a quick text to John:  _Is Sherlock looking/feeling okay to you? Molly_

_He's seemed a little stir-crazy, but I think he just needs a good case. Why has he done anything to you? –JW_

_Just made it so I can usually get home by 4. It's weird, he's even taking the cases he calls 1s and 2s. I have too much free time and no idea what to do with it!_

_Do you want me to talk to him?_

_Maybe. Not that I don't enjoy getting off early, I'm just worried about what's driving_ him  _to do it._

_I'll talk to him._

John put down his phone to see Sherlock walking into the flat. "So you're playing matchmaker now? Molly texted me," he continued before Sherlock could say anything, "That you've been freeing up her schedule quite a bit taking on all the cases that get thrown her way."

Sherlock shrugged. "I thought you said you didn't want any part of this."

"I never thought you'd actually go through with it!"

"So do you want to help me?"

John got an image of Molly and Mycroft on a date and tried his best not to shudder. "They would never work as a couple."

Sherlock sighed. "They don't have to work for more than 2 weeks. That's plenty of time for me to get in a good case or two."

John picked his phone back up and sent a quick text before putting the phone back down and checking if Sherlock even noticed. Thankfully he was too busy ranting. When he looked back over, John and the phone were in completely inconspicuous positions. "So what are you going to do now?"

"…Go to Mycroft's. Convince him to go on a date with Molly. Keep my fingers crossed that they hit it off."

John just nodded. He knew Sherlock would know he warned Mycroft about this as soon as he proposed the idea. John just hoped Sherlock would make him do anything huge in this game he was playing.

* * *

Sherlock didn't even put a foot in Mycroft's office before he said, "I'm not going on a blind date, Sherlock."

Sherlock opened his mouth slightly before he realized John went back on his word and replied, "As nice as your offer is, I don't want to go on a date with you."

Mycroft looked up, annoyed.

"I was going to ask you…" Sherlock continued, biting his lip. "For some help on a case."

Mycroft finally put down all his work. "I'm listening…"

Sherlock quickly racked his brain for more. "The case involves a certain…um…'third party' that you would probably prefer to oversee…I mean, I know a lot about this sort of thing, but…well…you work with her and…" Sherlock thought this whole thing was starting to go downhill.

Mycroft sighed. "Who is it?"

Sherlock glanced around, and realizing he had no one to pin this on at the moment, came up with another split-second excuse. "Considering we're in your less-secure office I'd rather not say."

"When do you need me, and where?"

"I figure tomorrow afternoon at the Yard I'll have her for an interrogation."

Mycroft nodded. "Fine. I'll clear my schedule. Don't do anything stupid before then."

Sherlock nodded and left, sending a text to Greg.  _Need an interrogation room tomorrow afternoon for 2 suspects in a case. –SH_

_No._

_Please? –SH_

_Only if I oversee the whole thing._

… _This is where you say "thank you," mate._

_Oh. Thank you. –SH_

* * *

Sherlock flopped down on the couch back at Baker Street. "John, I need you to trick Molly into coming to Scotland Yard tomorrow afternoon."

"No, Sherlock. I already told you I wouldn't help you."

"And you agreed to not tell either of them my plan. Now you've warned Mycroft and the entire game changed. You're helping me play Cupid. Now. Text Molly. I don't care what you tell her, but she needs to be in an interrogation room at the Yard tomorrow before Mycroft."

John looked over at Sherlock, not sure if he was serious. "Or I could always post that video of your drunk karaoke Greg forwarded to me." John blanched and sent out a text.

Sherlock smiled and contemplated how he was going to set everything up tomorrow.

* * *

John was walking Molly down the hallway to the interrogation room. "So remember, it's just a conference about the Moriarty…situation, nothing to worry about."

"You say that and you sound really worried," Molly said as they kept walking.

John sighed. "I know. I just don't want to think about Moriarty anymore, then he's suddenly back in our lives, and we have this huge panic. It's insane."

Molly nodded and they stopped outside the door. "I have to go find Sherlock and make sure he doesn't upset Sally too much. I shouldn't be too long, just go on in."

Molly nodded and smiled. The interrogation room she found herself in seemed a little darker than normal, and she started to feel concerned. Trying to comfort herself, she clung to the thought that they might need this discussion recorded, and could do so through the one-way mirror in the wall, with someone watching. She stood in a corner across from the doorway, hoping John would be back soon.

* * *

Sherlock was walking Mycroft down the same hall from the other end a minute later. His moves were tense and he kept on trying to see whether John had made it down the hall with Molly in time. Mycroft noted all this and simply thought Sherlock was irritated at the thought he could need help. But, seeing that there would be nothing he could say to make Sherlock any less wound up, he kept quiet for the time being. Sherlock practically shoved Mycroft into the room as he said, "Have fun," and went to the next room to watch what would happen.

John already had the sound turned up and Sherlock got in just in time for Mycroft's face of shock and quiet breath catch at the sight of Molly in the corner. Molly looked back at him, then glanced to the mirror in confusion. Neither of them spoke. Greg walked into the observing room asking, "All right, you two. I gave you the room, now do you mind telling me…what's…going…" Greg didn't finish, he just whipped out his phone and hit the record button.

Molly finally spoke. "What are you doing here, Mycroft?"

Mycroft put on an unreadable stare back at her and took everything about her and mentally filed it away. "Sherlock brought me here for an interrogation of a government spy. Evidently, he either brought me to the wrong room or you are a much better actress than I originally thought possible."

Molly shook her head. "Spy? John brought me to this room for a meeting about how to deal with the Moriarty situation!"

Mycroft looked up at the ceiling, finally understanding. "Oh, I see what's going on here. It seems my dear brother has set us up on a blind date." He pulled out his phone. "I got a text from John yesterday that said,  _'Sherlock's trying to play Cupid for you. Thought I should warn you, even if it means Sherlock forcing me to help. –JW'_ I have to give Sherlock credit, this was more than I was expecting."

Molly started giggling. "Sherlock was trying to set  _us_ up on a date? He doesn't know, does he?"

"I guess not." Mycroft said, catching wind of what Molly was doing and sending her a wink from the one eye Sherlock couldn't see.

Sherlock and John looked at each other on the other side of the glass. John scrunched his nose up and Sherlock looked like a teenage girl finding out about someone's first kiss. Greg continued to film this while saying, "Well, I guess we can tell who ships it and who doesn't. Have a NOTP much, John?"

John looked over at him confused while Sherlock turned back to the glass saying, "This is better than I expected it would be. I think this is what's called an OTP, correct?"

The three could have wound up in a big argument except their attention was captured by Molly saying, "So, do you think we should tell them about that one night?"

Mycroft sighed. "If Sherlock is trying to set us up, he probably already knows. Though I wouldn't know how, since I personally took him to Spain that morning."

John's jaw dropped. "Someone please tell me I'm dreaming."

Sherlock was giggling. "This is going better than I hoped it would."

"So what should we do now?" Molly asked, feeling a strange detachment from her surroundings.

"Should we give them a show?" Mycroft asked, and Molly could tell that beneath it all he was asking if they could try it out for real despite all of this. She nodded and stepped forward, pulling him into a kiss. Fireworks erupted. They could hear Sherlock cheering in the other room.

Mycroft pulled away and smiled. "Shall we go?"

Molly returned the smile and nodded. "I know this little restaurant a few blocks away. Hungry?"

"No. Let's have dinner." Mycroft offered his arm to Molly and Molly took it like she was becoming the Doctor's companion. They walked out and left without even acknowledging Sherlock following them from behind. They lost him by the time they reached the restaurant, but they hadn't lost the impression he left. Molly kept catching Mycroft humming "Matchmaker" from Fiddler on the Roof.

"A big fan of musicals?" she asked.

Mycroft shook his head. "My parents drag me to one almost every time they're in town. Sherlock is much harder to pin down."

Molly smiled and said, "Well, I'm actually a fan of some of them. Have you ever seen  _Wicked_?"

Mycroft shook his head. "I know it's coming up in two weeks, though. I could…I could get tickets if you want to go…"

"You could do that? I tried to get tickets but it said they were all sold out!"

"I have 4 tickets reserved at all times because of my parents. The least I can do is bring someone along to make it even vaguely tolerable. The only one I found even remotely good was Les Miserables."

"I love Les Mis!" Molly said. "Hopefully you'll enjoy my company more than you're parents, if we go."

"Actually," Mycroft said, "My parents are coming down in time to go see it. Would you mind if they came too? My mother doesn't like taking no for an answer."

"Sure, why not. Hopefully I can make it better for you, and if not, well, whatever. We just don't have to try it again." She smirked cheekily, "And we could make out when the lights go down."

* * *

Two weeks later Mycroft was walking Molly home in the rain. They were both standing under his umbrella and smiling. "That was the best musical I've been to by far."

Molly looked up at Mycroft, "I thought you might like it. And your parents seemed ecstatic to see you brought me."

"They were beginning to worry I'd be alone for the rest of my life, I suppose."

"Well, they certainly didn't buy this was our 3rd date."

Mycroft sighed. "I know."

Molly's smile grew bigger. They stopped in front of her house just as a streak of lightning broke the sky in two. "Why don't you come in?" Molly asked. "I'd hate for you to be stuck walking the rest of the way home. I'll call you a cab."

"No, it's fine, really. It isn't too much of a walk, and I could use the exercise."

Molly was having none of it. "Mycroft, you are either coming in and letting me call you a cab, or you are coming in and staying the night."

Mycroft pulled the umbrella closer over their heads as a strong gust of wind threatened to blow it away. Molly shook her head and said, "You know what? No cab is going to get here in weather like this. You're staying the night."

The next morning Sherlock came around to ask Molly about an autopsy to find Mycroft making tea in the kitchen while Molly took a shower. He smirked and left without letting either of them know he was there. This worked out better than he could have dreamed!


	20. The Christmas Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up is a request from Guest, who asked,  
> Could you do a Christmas dinner where they take Charlotte or Will&Ben?  
> Or halloween dress up?  
> Thank you :)  
> This will be with Charlotte, so same universe as First day of School, Learning to Ride A Bike, etc. Set after Learning to Ride a Bike, but before Never Tick Off A Holmes. I'm thinking this will be when she's 8, if you're really picky.

Charlotte bounded down the stairs in her grandparent's house and into the kitchen, yelling, "I'm ready!"

Everyone turned to look at her in her white dress and simple white crown, and Sherlock promptly asked, "What are you supposed to be?"

Charlotte huffed disdainfully and said, "Can't you tell? I'm a chess queen!"

"It's Christmas, not Halloween."

"Well, any holiday is a good time to dress up in my opinion, so you can go soak your head!"

"Charlotte!" Molly scolded as Mycroft burst into laughter.

"Well it's true!" Charlotte said as she grabbed a seat at the table. "And I'd love him to. We could start The Ice-Bucket Challenge: Christmas Edition!"

Molly looked over to Mycroft, still laughing, and said, "Aren't you going to help me with this?"

Mrs. Holmes interrupted with some advice. "I don't think that's a good idea until he calms down enough to show he means it." Then she turned to Charlotte. "Although that is very rude, young lady."

"Sorry, Grandma." Charlotte looked down at the table, but snuck a face at Sherlock. Sherlock reciprocated. Both of them got whacked with a newspaper.

"Stop it, both of you!"

"Sorry," both said at once.

"You had better be. One more jab from either of you and I'll send you to your rooms without dinner!"

"Hey, what is for dinner?" Charlotte asked, realizing she didn't actually know.

"You are thick, aren't you? Can't you smell?" Sherlock scoffed.

"Of  _course_ I can smell. Sometimes it's just hard to tell all the smells apart, stupid!"

Mycroft sighed and signaled to his mother he'd take Charlotte out of the room for a bit, slinging her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. She squirmed and struggled, but she couldn't get free until Mycroft set her down upstairs in the room she claimed as hers for Christmas. Mycroft closed the door behind him and said, "Remember how I told you not to be rude to Uncle Sherlock?"

"Yeah, and I remember you also said it was your job, but you never did anything to prove it, so I was picking up the slack."

Mycroft sighed. "Charlotte, the reason it's my job is because I know how to do it without getting in trouble."

"Well, you won't teach me how to do that without getting in trouble, so when am I supposed to do it?"

"Never." Mycroft looked over his shoulder conspiratorially and added, "Of course by that I mean you can't do it until you learn to not get caught, and I'm not teaching you because it's something you have to learn yourself. If you use the same ways I use to sneak a jab in, then I'll at the very least know, and that isn't really 'not getting caught'."

Charlotte sighed but knew she was beat. "Fine. Am I really not getting dinner?"

"I think you'll be getting dinner, I think you'll just be excluded from dessert. But one more strike and you might really not get any dinner."

"Okay. As long as I can eat something, I can go without cake."

"That's a big change from when you were one. 'Cake' was your first full word."

"I know, Dad. You tell me all the time."

"Promise to behave?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then, Christmas Queen, let's get dinner."

Charlotte smiled and ran out, humming "Jingle Bells" under her breath.


	21. That One Halloween

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> October and no new Halloween requests? Guys, you're killing me. I'll be a ghost haunting these lonely sites on the Interweb forever. Oh, well. At least I'm making a one-shot for you. Your welcome. (I still love you guys by the way that was sarcasm!)

Molly looked over at Mycroft, impatiently pacing in their living room, watching the clock. Finally, she sighed. "Mycroft, why are you acting like an animal trapped in a cage?"

Mycroft just distractedly grunted and continued his pacing. "Mycroft." Nothing. "Mycroft!"

Mycroft finally snapped his head up and around. "What?"

Molly rolled her eyes. "Why are you acting like an animal trapped in a cage?"

Mycroft said, "It's Halloween."

"Yeah, it is."

"Which means  _kids_  will be coming to our house."

"Yeah."

"And asking for candy."

"Glad to see you understand the concept of Halloween."

"You won't let me just turn out the front porch light and just ignore all the trick-or-treaters tonight."

"Because you haven't given me a good reason."

Mycroft muttered something under his breath angrily.

"What was that?"

Mycroft looked up and cringed as he said, "If I told you, you'd probably kick me to the curb."

Molly crossed her arms and simply said, "I'll be the judge of that."

Mycroft laughed nervously as he said, "A couple of years ago, I always had a certain fascination with wolves. One time I actually managed to get close to one, and they're not as friendly as most people would like to think…"

Molly laughed. "So, what, it's just a childhood trauma sort of thing? That's nothing to be ashamed of, and nothing to kick you out over."

"Well, that's not the problem. See, it turns out, well…you remember that seemingly deadly virus scare 5 years back?"

"Yeah?"

"It wasn't deadly, and it wasn't a virus."

Molly tilted her head to the side, brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"It was an escaped Baskerville experiment. They were trying to find a cure for werewolves or something along those lines, and they accidentally started a whole new pack." Mycroft rolled up his sleeve to show an alarmingly large bite mark.

Molly stared at him a moment, then smiled. "So, is that it? Tonight being the full moon and you being a werewolf?" She stood up. "I guess you could be concerned about that. But urges can be overcome…you do know there are other supernatural beings besides werewolves around, right? They live all over the world and no one ever knows who they are." Mycroft looked exactly like a confused puppy, and Molly laughed. "I can see the resemblance now that I know what to look for, though."

"Molly, what are you talking about?"

"You must be new to the supernatural if you couldn't tell…" she grinned, showing off a pair of fangs, "That your girlfriend's a vampire!"

Mycroft's mouth dropped open, then he quickly shut it, realizing what that must look like. "Well…I thought there was something different about you; I was just looking for…"

"…Less crazy solutions?" Molly filled in. Mycroft nodded mutely. "Well…" Molly said, looking out the window, "It's just about twilight. What do you say we leave the house and bother Sherlock, or something?"

Mycroft smiled and said, "I'd rather like that. If you give me a minute, I'll be ready."

"Go on then, Mr. Werewolf. I've never seen one of you change before."

Mycroft closed his eyes and felt his bones stretch and compress and when he opened them again, he was looking at Molly from about 3 feet off the ground. Molly grinned and knelt in front of him. Even as a wolf, the red tint of his fur meant it was unmistakably him. She scratched behind his ears and he growled and gently smacked her face with a front paw. She laughed and said, "If Toby hadn't had to been put to sleep, I bet you would have had a good time stalking him, hm?"

Mycroft growled again and then walked off to the closet and brought out a leash with a collar and threw it in Molly's general direction. She smiled and hooked it around his neck. "Shall we go then?"

* * *

Molly was walking around with Mycroft on a leash and trying her hardest not to laugh at everyone who automatically assumed that she just happened to know how to make a dog look like a wolf. She'd smile, fangs and all, and everyone would think she just had plastic fangs in. That's why she loved Halloween. It was the one night of the year no one cared if she was a vampire. Then all of a sudden, she heard someone call to her from behind. Mycroft started pulling on the leash and she picked up the pace so he didn't choke himself. She ducked into a nearby park, and she heard someone racing after her. "Hey, you! Stop! What do you think you're doing with that…with that wolf?!"

She slowed at the sound of Sherlock's voice and turned, making sure her face mainly stayed in shadow. She loosened her grip on the leash the tiniest bit, and Sherlock let out one short whistle and Mycroft walked over to him. Sherlock rubbed his head and whispered something into his ear. "Listen, I don't know who you think you are, but you can't just approach a wolf-even if it has a collar and leash-and take it off the streets. Who wouldn't get hurt as soon as it felt threatened?"

Molly lifted her face so the moon hit it and hissed through her fangs. "I think a vampire would qualify." She tilted her head and held out one hand and Mycroft ran back to her, wagging his tail like a domestic dog. "He isn't a big bad wolf. He's my boyfriend, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't belittle my skills with him."

Mycroft let out a low growl when Sherlock took a step closer. Sherlock backed up and just stated, "You're getting awfully territorial, brother dear."

Mycroft huffed, lifted his head so he was touching Molly's hand at her side and smiled. Molly picked the end of his leash up and grinned at Sherlock. "What do you think, should we continue to the hospital so I can get a drink, or should I just get one here? Fresher, if a little bit less sanitary."

Mycroft tilted his head to the side and after a moment turned away and Molly smiled apologetically at Sherlock. "Maybe next time, then." They walked off together, leaving Sherlock to wonder if this actually happened or if he had somehow gotten his hands on some crack and was actually high. It wouldn't be the first time.

* * *

The next day Sherlock felt no withdrawal, so he decided to go to Molly and Mycroft's to investigate whether what he saw last night was real. He knocked on the door and Mycroft let him in, all his questions about what was going on ignored. Sherlock walked into the living room to see Molly sipping a red liquid from a coffee mug. "Sherlock, what are you doing here?"

"Is that blood?"

"Um…yeah. Why, you taking a survey?"

Sherlock's eyes widened slightly and followed with, "So last night, that wasn't a trip? Mycroft actually growled at me when I got within 6 feet of you?"

Molly smiled. "Yeah, it's actually a bit sweet. Changing into a werewolf when you start out a human is a bit different than being born one. Until all the impulses are under control it's almost like dealing with a hormonal teenager, and teenage boys don't like to see their girlfriends getting too close to other guys, last I checked."

Mycroft stepped around Sherlock and sat down next to Molly on their couch. "I'm not like a teenage boy."

"No, you're normally like a teenage boy. Turn into a wolf and you're basically a puppy."

Mycroft rolled his eyes and then focused back on Sherlock. "Is there anything else, or did you just barge into our house to see if Molly would have fangs?"

Sherlock shook his head and dug a hand into his coat pocket pulling out a little baggie of dog treats. "Want one before I go?"

Mycroft growled and Sherlock beat a quick retreat. Molly put an arm around Mycroft and whispered, "Did you want one?"

Mycroft turned pink. Molly sniggered. "Shut up," Mycroft mumbled.

"I have a feeling in 10 years we'll still be talking about that one Halloween where Sherlock offered you a milk bone."

"Shut up!"

Molly got an evil smirk on her face as she asked teasingly, "Who's a good boy?"

Mycroft buried his face in his hands before whispering, "Is it me?"

Molly laughed and hugged him. "Yes. It's you."

"Good."

Molly rubbed his head playfully before bringing out a bag of her own. Mycroft gingerly took a dog treat and chewed it. Molly hid her smirk by hugging him tighter. "I know you're laughing at me," Mycroft said.

Molly sighed and just gave him a squeeze. "You'll get used to this eventually."

"I hope so."

"I know so. You're already house-trained, after all, not much to learn after that!"

"Shut up!"


	22. Molly and the Morning Sickness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I got a PM from FreakishlyGeekilyMe on FF pointing out something huge that made me want to facepalm myself, and gave me 1-2 solutions for it. Curious?  
> You've written about the extended family finding out Molly is pregnant, but never about how MOLLY finds out that she is pregnant. (*insert facepalm here*) Bonus points for her getting sick and Mycroft being really, really worried OR for Mycroft realising first and dropping subtle hints etc until she figures it out (eg. Mycroft starts renovating/redecorating one of the bedrooms)  
> Molly figuring out that she herself is pregnant is one of those things my thick head just completely glossed over in these one-shots. Geez, I need to get my head fixed. But, 'till then, enjoy how this turned out!

Molly woke up that one fateful morning feeling a little bad, but overall not like she'd need a sick day. She sat up, stretched, and looked at her fiancé still out cold on the other side of the bed. A smile forced its way onto her lips as she got out of bed to make a cuppa that would hopefully help her less than happy stomach. Just as she set the water to boil, though, a tidal wave of nausea crashed over her and she had to rush to the bathroom to empty her stomach of whatever was left of last night's dinner. She sat down on the bathroom floor, not quite feeling like she was done throwing up yet. When the feeling finally passed, she flushed the toilet, washed her hands just in case, and went back to the kitchen to find Mycroft up and making them both breakfast. "You don't have to do that, love."

Mycroft looked over at her quickly and Molly could see the worry in his eyes. "I just want to make sure we get breakfast this morning, and I can't trust you not to burn the toast when you're preoccupied in the bathroom."

"How sympathetic," Molly responded drily.

Mycroft rolled his eyes and said, "Well, last time I fussed about you being sick you physically removed me from  _our_ room."

Molly turned away and she could feel Mycroft's lingering gaze. "I'm fine, Mycroft, really. Probably just a stomach bug."

She heard him sigh and continue on making breakfast. She saw a cup of peppermint tea on the living room table and smiled, knowing that Mycroft would probably be mother-henning her… _again_. She took a sip as she sat down in her chair, and soon Mycroft walked in with a plate filled with toast covered in Nutella. He placed it on the table and sat next to her, looking somewhat distant and lost in thought. Molly just shook her head and grabbed a piece of toast. Halfway through it Mycroft stood up, quickly went to their room, and came out a minute later, looking disturbed about something, but what, Molly couldn't tell. Mycroft looked over at her and said, "I apparently have a two-day meeting I need to go to."

Molly shrugged indifferently and smiled. "That's okay, love, I'll be fine."

Mycroft crossed his arms skeptically. "I don't know. And this isn't just a car ride away; I'm going to be in Canada."

Molly snickered. "You hate Canada."

"I hate their fake bacon. There's a difference."

"Go on. 2 days isn't so bad."

"I just hate the fact that these things always seem to happen when it's 'your time of the month' and I can't be there for moral support."

Molly rolled her eyes. "Liar. You hate being around then. Though I have to give you points for remembering the peppermint tea."

Mycroft sighed. "Sure you'll be okay?"

"Yeah. Go on. Save the world, Secret Agent Man."

Mycroft kissed her cheek and grabbed a slice of toast as he went to get dressed. "You know our guest bedroom?"

Molly went along with the change in topic, knowing that there was probably just some connection or another she was missing. "Yeah, what about it?"

"It needs a fix, doesn't it? I think I noticed some rot near the ceiling."

"Your OCD is showing, love."

"Even so, I'd like to get it fixed up when I come back."

Molly laughed in surrender. "All right. Go ahead, call someone to fix up the guest room."

Mycroft walked out of their bedroom buttoning up his suit and smiled. "I'll do it on my way to the airport, then. You should probably stay home from work today, you know. Just in case you start feeling sick again."

"And there's the mother-henning again."

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Stay home, at least for today?"

Molly exaggeratedly crossed her heart and held up her hand. "Cross my heart and hope to need a post-mortem."

Mycroft kissed her one last time as he walked out. "See you Thursday."

"See you then."

As soon as Mycroft left Molly bit her lip. Something he said bugged her…but she didn't know what. She shrugged and took another piece of toast and a sip of tea. Then she realized: her period was supposed to start today, but instead she was getting sick. And Mycroft seemed really worried, then he checked the calendar and seemed concerned, but not necessarily worried…and the guest room…

Molly pulled out her phone and texted,  _Mycroft, when your fake meeting is over for the day, bring back a pregnancy test for me._

_Why do I have to get it?_

_Because you're the one who is still concerned enough to make me stay home even after you've deduced that I just have morning sickness._

No reply. Molly turned to look at their guest bedroom and made to get up and get a better look at it, then she felt another wave of nausea arbitrarily hit, and she had to rush to the bathroom.  _If this becomes a regular thing if I really am pregnant, I have no idea what I'm going to do,_ she thought.

* * *

It was 4:32 when Mycroft and Molly dared to see the results of the test. 2 blue bars stared at them. Molly looked to Mycroft, and he looked back. Molly smiled inexplicably and Mycroft sighed, letting his shoulders untense. "Well that just happened," Molly deadpanned.

"It seems so," Mycroft said, his eyes closing. "I'm glad you're not sick, but I'm terrified of what this means."

"What, your mum killing you for not waiting until we're married?"

"No. Well, yes…" Molly giggled. "But…being parents. Just…well…"

Molly looked at Mycroft, silently urging him to continue. "What if…what if I screw up?"

"Are you forgetting about me?"

"No, I'm considering how you have the ability to pick up after my messes."

Molly laughed. "Mycroft, you're going to be a good dad. I'll be a good mum because you can help me out when I don't know what to do. After all, the little thing will have half of your DNA, and I almost never know what's going on in that head of yours."

Mycroft smiled and wrapped an arm around her. "Not true. You read me better than almost anyone, family included."

"I guess we'll do all right. We have 9 months to figure out what to do."

Mycroft nodded. "And about 3 do figure out how to deal with Sherlock and John when they find out."

Molly laughed. "Who do you think would be more disturbed?"

Mycroft chuckled. "I have no idea."

They started laughing hard both at the incredulity of it all, and the feeling that somehow, everything was going to turn out all right no matter what the universe threw at them.


	23. Mycroft, Under the Bleachers, With Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, some Halloween/Halloween-ish prompts at last! This next one is from Guest (again, on FF) who asked,  
> Could you consider Potterlock? Mycroft being a Slytherin, Molly a Ravenclaw... forbidden love between students and all that. It would be lovely. (Also Potterlock and Halloween fits, doesn't it?) Ella  
> I'll do what I can, which is basically mindless fluff. Also, I might make this short and funny, and leave virtually no explanation.  
> Have fun…

Sherlock had been following Mycroft around for the past hour. He caught plenty of odd looks, seeing as how he was only a first year and Mycroft was a 7th, but there was no reason Mycroft should be so happy today, or for the last 3 weeks. Today was the day for the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and he seemed exceptionally happy. He followed the ginger out to the Quidditch field, except Mycroft  _hated_ watching the matches. So why was he going out of his way to make sure he got there on time? Sherlock used a cloaking spell on himself and started following Mycroft a little closer.

Just as they got to the field, Mycroft froze and turned around. Sherlock held his breath, hoping that this invisibility spell John described earlier actually worked. Mycroft looked around skeptically but seemed not to see Sherlock, as he turned back around and went over to the bleachers. Only instead of getting a seat  _on_ them, he went  _under_ them where Sherlock saw a 3rd or 4th year Ravenclaw waiting for him. She blushed and he smiled. "Molly, how have classes been?"

"All right, how's your job hunt going?"

"A few people have expressed interest in have me in the Ministry as an intern after I graduate."

"That's good news!"

"Not really." Molly looked confused and Mycroft clarified. "It's not good because that means I won't have an excuse to come and visit you."

Molly blushed and looked down. "O-oh…"

Mycroft moved over to her and wrapped his arms around her. "I've missed you," he said under his breath. She smiled up at him and said, "Well, I'm glad I wasn't the only one."

"Shame we always have to hide out somewhere to meet."

Molly nodded and rested her head on his chest. "You're getting really tall. It's ridiculous." Mycroft laughed. "My doctor says I'm only supposed to grow to 5' 4", or something like that."

Sherlock bit his lip. So Mycroft was not only dating a 4th year, but she was also a half-blood or muggleborn? He could only imagine how many people wouldn't like it. He focused his attention back onto Mycroft and Molly, to find them kissing. He couldn't help it and gagged a little, causing both of them to freeze. Mycroft raised his hand and said, "Aparecium!"

Sherlock felt the invisibility spell go away and his eyes widened at the thought of Mycroft being able to do wandless magic. But right now, he needed to get out of there. He turned and started to run, but Mycroft was too quick and cast another spell. "Carpe retractum!"

Sherlock fell to the ground and was dragged backward, red in the face, by an even redder Mycroft. "Molly, I'd like you to meet my brother Sherlock."

Molly just stared at him before asking, "How does a first year know an invisibility spell?"

Mycroft sighed and shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine, whenever I see him, he's just sitting in the Slytherin Common Room or having something light to eat in the dining hall."

Molly nodded and whispered something into Mycroft's ear. Mycroft let Sherlock go and he ran away, with a quick nod of thanks to Molly. But he knew the next day why he got a howler from his mother about leaving Mycroft alone, and why Mycroft smiled as he read a letter from their parents, got up, walked over to the Ravenclaw table, kissed Molly, and walked out. Looks like not as many people minded as either of them would have thought.


	24. Sugar Highs and Holmeses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Okay, last prompt to do before I post all the new ficlets I've written. Let's do this thing. Guest on FF requested:  
> Halloween prompt, serious of events,  
> On a average day been the mother of Holmes children is not easy adding sugar makes it worse so on Halloween Molly gives their children strict rules on how much sweets they can eat.  
> She gets a call from Sherlock or work leaving Mycroft alone just before the yearly sugar rush begins.  
> Before she leaves Molly warns Mycroft who has never had to go through who says it can't be that hard to look after 2 or plus children compared to any other night.  
> Before leaving Molly gives them full access to anything sugar based in the house (bonus if this includes Mycroft's hidden stash.  
> And that's it. I think this'll wind up being fun, plus, I get to introduce new kids to the party. So…let's get this thing started!

Molly was scared. That wasn't something she'd admit to often, but tonight, she was  _scared._  It had been 8 years since Mycroft and her had gotten married, and a little over 7 since she'd given birth to triplets who somehow managed to all stay healthy throughout the pregnancy. Now the three kids, Victoria, Thomas, and Hamish, were returning from a night of trick or treating, trading candy, bragging about their hauls, and talking about what they wanted to dress up as next year. Victoria, dressed up to the nines and claiming to be an important business woman, thought she'd either go as the same thing, or something really scary that she couldn't think of yet. Tom and Hamish had gone as Siamese zombie twins, and were saying they wouldn't be trying another two-person costume no matter what else they did, and proceeded to argue about who needed to get out of the costume. But neither one of them had any clothes on underneath their costume, save their underwear. "You know what you should go as next year?" Tom asked Hamish, "A streaker!"

Hamish shoved him inside the costume and Victoria nimbly jumped out of the way of their collapse like only someone with years of experience could do. "Well if I'm going as a streaker you're going as one of Mum's cadavers!"

"You don't even know what that means!"

"Doesn't matter, 'cause I know what her job is otherwise, which means you'd be dead!"

The two started to wrestle and Victoria tried to tell them something, but got drowned out until she screamed, "HEY!" at the top of her lungs. The two looked up at her. "You know, I think I've found the scariest costume I could ever come up with. You two." She smirked and popped a piece of gum in her mouth.

"Okay, Victoria, you've reached your limit tonight. Tom, Hamish, remember you already reached them earlier."

They all nodded at the same time at continued down the street. Victoria started fiddling with her hair, which was brown like her mother's but who had curls that could rival Sherlock's. Tom and Hamish were identical right down to the blond hair Molly recognized from her own brothers, and Mycroft's nose which Sherlock always poked fun at them because of. Speaking of whom, he just sent her a text saying there were imitation vampire and werewolf attacks popping up all over London, and he needed her in the morgue. She walked them back into the house and sighed. She texted him back that she was busy, and he just insisted he needed her. Mycroft walked into the main entrance way, and the triplets immediately swarmed around him, fighting each other for his attention, which was undivided at Molly. "Does Sherlock need you in the morgue?"

This long in their relationship, Molly didn't even question how he knew, and she just nodded. "I'm sorry, I know the sugar rush is going to set in soon, and I don't want to leave you alone during it."

Mycroft just laughed. "How hard can it be? I don't see how it'd be much different than a normal night; they bounce off the walls anyway."

Molly just sighed. "Would you mind getting my lab coat? I think I left it upstairs, and I need to hide the candy from these three."

Mycroft nodded and quickly left. When he was gone, Molly smiled and knelt down in front of the three triplets, who were now far more interested in her then why their dad had left them downstairs without even acknowledging that they were there. "Okay, you three. I've got a deal to make with you. Dad's never been around Halloween, so he doesn't know what usually happens. But, as you guys insist, the best way to learn is through a worst-case scenario. So, I'm allowing you access to  _all_  candy tonight, including Dad's stash in the back of the cupboard, on two conditions. One, you don't complain about how sick you feel tomorrow. You bring it on yourself for eating that much. Two, you can't destroy the house while I'm on a case with Uncle Sherlock, okay?"

The three looked at each other, then nodded furiously. Molly smiled and took their bags. "You'll have to find them before you can eat any more, but I won't make it too hard."

They looked at each other, excited. They hadn't been able to eat all the candy they wanted in 3 years! Mycroft came back down the stairs holding Molly's lab coat, and she grabbed it, kissing his cheek and saying, "I'll be back soon," over the sound of 7-year-olds gagging.

She left and Mycroft stood there a second, looking over the three carefully. Tom and Hamish's pupils were blown; their sugar rush had already started. Victoria's weren't quite as big, but she had her hands stuffed in her pockets which was a sure sign she was trying to keep them from shaking. But the three were relatively calm. Victoria smiled and quickly ran up the stairs yelling, "I'm gonna go change!"

Tom got a smirk on his face, yelling up to her, "Why bother going upstairs?" and stepping out of his and Hamish's costume. Hamish bugged his eyes out and Victoria took one look at what was downstairs and turned to walk to her room. Mycroft sighed. This was rare, but nothing new. "Tom, put your trousers on."

"No."

Now that  _was_ unexpected. "Tom." He put on his best disapproving glare. "Put your trousers on,  _right now_."

Tom just smiled and ran off into the house, but not before he stole the shirt to his and Hamish's zombie costume. Hamish turned red and made sure that their shared pants wouldn't fall down before running after him and yelling, "Tom! Get back here with that shirt!"

Mycroft was about to yell at the both of them when he heard Victoria walking down the stairs. She held two Nerf guns and had a feed of those Styrofoam darts wrapped around her like you might see in a war movie. She offered one to Mycroft. "If we're going to war, you're going to need a gun," she explained solemnly.

Mycroft shook his head and she shrugged, then taking a few steps toward where the boys ran off, screeched, "IF EITHER OF YOU TOUCH MY CANDY I WILL SKIN YOU ALIVE!"

Mycroft tried to stop her but she was already doing a war cry and running off shooting Nerf darts everywhere. Mycroft rushed after her and saw all three of them searching the kitchen. "Found mine first! Found mine first!" Victoria yelled as she pulled a bag out of the freezer.

Tom and Hamish found theirs among the dish cloths and cookbooks, and were arguing over who should have the last chocolate bar. Victoria walked up, snatched it from their hands, and stuffed it into her mouth, smiling. The two immediately started to attack her, but she curled up protectively around her own stash and screamed. Mycroft physically pulled them off her and started to reprimand them, but as soon as he let them go they ran up to the cupboard and helped each other onto the shelves. They reached back as far as they could on the top shelf and pulled out Mycroft's special "hands-off" cache and when he tried to get it back from them, they proceeded to play keep away with it, tossing it to Victoria who ran out of the room. He chased after the three after that for a while, trying to cut off their access to any more sugar, but despite their constant laughter he could never pin down where they were. He sat down, panting, on the living room couch, where the three proceeded to attack him with everything they had. He tried to fight them off, but had to settle for backing himself into a corner behind a lamp and curling up in a protective ball. At some point he felt the hands stop but he refused to get up to check why.

He must have dozed off at some point because the next thing he knew the hands were back, but this time they were Molly's. She forcibly removed his hands from his face and neck, but didn't try to pull him from the corner. She was trying very hard not to laugh. "I tried calling you but you didn't answer. I called in the cavalry just in case; your parents are up stairs putting the three sugar junkies to bed right now."

"They're…not still hyper, are they?"

"No, they were passed out all over the house when we got here. They're having more trouble trying to get them to move."

Mycroft sighed and rested his forehead on his knees. "If it's all the same to you, I'd still rather not come out from behind here just yet."

Molly smiled and dragged him out. He sat back down in his previous position right in front of the lamp and Molly imitated him. "So, is a sugar rush harder to handle?"

"Sherlock on crack is easier to handle."

Molly smacked him lightly on the arm. Mycroft just leant back and said, "I'm serious."

Molly leaned forward so they were the same distance apart as before. "I know." She leaned in quickly and kissed his nose. "Boop," she whispered.

Mycroft smiled and kissed her nose back.

Molly hugged him and ruffled his hair playfully. He kissed her hair and pulled her next to him, as he kissed her forehead. They heard a throat clearing from the doorway. "Glad to see you two are letting us do all the work."

Molly giggled guiltily and Mycroft averted his eyes and turned red. He was about to apologize to his mother when Molly said, "We're going to be the ones cleaning up the house. Mycroft just seemed a little traumatized after this year's Halloween sugar high and I didn't want to trigger any PTSD by making him deal with the three tiny terrors tonight."

Mr. Holmes smiled understandingly and whispered something in his wife's ear. She looked at him and said, "I suppose you're right. Those three are more than what we ever had to deal with from him and Sherlock. We'll leave you two to it. If you need any help, you know where to call."

Molly smiled and nodded and Mycroft turned redder at the first comment and wouldn't look up. "I'm never letting them near candy again," he muttered. "Ever."

His parents heard him but didn't say anything as they left, but laughed loudly as soon as they got in a cab. Clearly, their son still needing a little adjusting in the parenting department!


	25. I Want to Go Home!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next one is from Guest on FanFiction who asked,  
> How about some cute parentlock with Charlotte (I love the verse!)... Young Charlotte (2-4ish) has to spend her first weekend away with her grandparents. Everything's fine until she realises her parents won't come to pick her up before she's spent the night.  
> Interesting little known fact, I initially imagined Charlotte as a blonde who looked a little like myself as a kid, except with blue eyes instead of brown. I have a sketch of her originally in my History notebook from freshman year.

Charlotte was in the back seat, swinging her legs and humming happily. Molly looked over to Mycroft and said, “I still don’t think she understands what’s going on.”

Mycroft took a glance in the rearview mirror but continued to drive. “The longer it takes for her to figure it out, the better. We might already be in Spain by that time and we won’t have to comfort her until we get back.”

“How apathetic of you,” Molly said drily.

Mycroft sighed heavily. Charlotte stopped humming and looked up. With the sort of innocence only a 3-year-old can manage, she asked, “What’s wrong, Daddy?”

“Nothing, honey. Your mum was just teasing me… _again_.”

Charlotte nodded and continued her humming for a bit. “When are we gonna get to Grandma’s and Grandpa’s?”

“Soon. And you get to stay there for the weekend while Dad and I go away, remember?” Molly asked.

Charlotte nodded again and looked out the window.

“She definitely doesn’t understand what’s going on,” Molly said.

“I know.”

* * *

They got to the Holmes’ house without another hitch, and Charlotte rushed out, eager to run around after the long car ride. Mycroft’s parents were ready for this, after last time when Charlotte ran straight into the front door without even trying to open it, and Mr. Holmes picked her up and spun her around like an airplane before putting her down, laughing. “Grandpaaaa…!” she whined between giggles.

Molly brought out Charlotte’s little purple suitcase and put it down next to Charlotte where she could see it. Then she knelt down and gave her a hug. “Okay, honey, be good, okay?”

Charlotte nodded and Molly let go. Mycroft stood there awkwardly a second, before giving a mental shoulder shrug and lifting her up in a bear hug like he usually did when only Molly was watching. “We’ll be back soon enough, so don’t cry, okay?”

Charlotte sighed, trying to sound like Mycroft, but sounding more cute than annoyed. “I don’t cry when you leave, Daddy.”

“Well, I’m not there, so how should I know?”

“Because I say so.”

“You also say you don’t steal the last cookie in the jar every time.”

“Not every time…Mum’s done it.”

Mycroft held her out at arm’s length. “So you admit it! You know what that means, right?”

Charlotte giggled and shook her head. “Don’t do it!”

“I have to. You know what happens when you do something bad…the East Wind comes!” he whipped her around in his arms until both of them were thoroughly dizzy.

“He seems to have lightened up a lot over these past years,” Mrs. Holmes remarked.

Molly smiled. “There’s something about Charlotte that does that to him. Of course, he’s the one who can do work from the house, so he’s been domesticated almost through all of this…” she laughed at some of the scenes she never thought she’d picture Mycroft in until Charlotte came.

Mycroft put Charlotte down and put his hands on his knees. “If you really get dizzy, you should stop doing that to me!” Charlotte piped up.

“You’re just saying that to get off the hook. If I stop spinning you, I’ll think of something worse to happen to you,” Mycroft panted, before standing up. “In all seriousness…promise you won’t cry?”

Charlotte nodded. “Cross my heart!”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “And hope to die?”

Charlotte giggled. “Never.”

* * *

It had been 4 hours since Molly and Mycroft had dropped off Charlotte, and the sun was starting to set. Charlotte kept on glancing out the window expectantly, then looking back down to her drawing, confused as to why her parents weren’t back yet. Still, she kept drawing, working on making the drawing as realistic as she could while still using crayons. “Grandma, do you think brown or grey fur looks better on a cat?”

“Grey, but Charlotte…it’s nearly 7, isn’t it?”

Charlotte looked up. “Yeah…why?”

“Well, your bed time last I checked was 7:30.”

Charlotte sat up from where she was laying on her stomach. “What’s your point?”

“I think we should probably start getting you ready for bed, don’t you?”

Charlotte tilted her head to the side. Mrs. Holmes braced herself for the dawning understanding. Charlotte’s eyes widened. “I won’t be going home tonight?!”

Mrs. Holmes shook her head. “I’m afraid not, sweetie.”

“But…but…but I can’t go to bed here, because…because…”

“Because…?”

“Because…because I don’t have my pajamas!” Charlotte nodded to emphasize her point.

Mr. Holmes walked down the stairs. “Actually, you do. They’re in your suitcase, remember?”

Charlotte sat there a moment, stunned her plan didn’t work. “W-Well, where will I sleep, huh? I-I can’t just sleep on the floor!”

“You seemed perfectly fine doing that this afternoon,” Mrs. Holmes interjected. “Even if we didn’t have a bed made for you, you most certainly _can_ sleep on the floor.”

Charlotte looked down to the floor, trying to come up with another excuse to get her out of going to bed, but couldn’t find any. She looked up and crossed her arms. “You can’t make me!”

Mrs. Holmes sighed and lifted Charlotte over her shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “No! What are you doing?! Put me down! I don’t wanna go to bed! _Put me down!”_ Charlotte screamed.

Her protests were to no avail as she soon found herself changed into pajamas with her teeth brushed under the blanket of the bed she usually slept in when she came over. When Mr. Holmes walked in, she looked up and said, “Please let me go downstairs, Grandpa!”

He just smiled and shook his head. “Sorry, we promised to have you in bed on time tonight.” Charlotte looked down, the backs of her eyes stinging and threatening to make her cry, but she promised she wouldn’t, so she tried to keep the tears away. “Why don’t you want to go to bed?”

“Because of the monsters,” Charlotte whimpered.

“The monsters?”

Charlotte nodded. “The monsters Uncle Sherlock told me about, who sneak into your bedroom at night and hide in the shadows until you fall asleep and they eat you.”

“Well, don’t you have monsters at your house then, too?”

“No, ‘cause Daddy threw them all out and made sure they wouldn’t come back by putting a nightlight next to my bed. It’s basically a huge wall to the monsters saying back off. He knows because he’s an expert monster exterminator.”

Mr. Holmes almost laughed, seeing both of his boys doing exactly what Charlotte just described, with a snicker or an eye-roll when Charlotte couldn’t see. “Well, where do you think your father became an expert monster exterminator from? It doesn’t just come in the manual for how to be a dad…”

“You mean…you’re an expert monster exterminator too?”

“I am! As a matter of fact, while you were drawing, I was up here, making sure they were all gone and wouldn’t be causing you any more trouble. They wrote this note for you,” he waved a piece of paper he drew from his pocket. It was Molly’s contact information, not that he was going to say that, “Written in monster saying, ‘Dear Charlotte, Sorry, we won’t be able to eat your brains tonight, your Grandpa kicked us out of the house and we don’t know when we’ll be coming back. If you’re gone by then, we’ll move to another house to see if that kid hasn’t taken proper anti-monster measures. Sincerely, The Monster Under the Bed, The Monster in the Closet, The Monster in the Hallway, and The Boogeyman.’ See? They won’t be hurting you tonight.”

“But…monsters lie sometimes, right? The Monster Under the Bed is pretty wimpy, but the Boogeyman is hardly scared of anything, ‘cept nightlights!”

“Hang on, I think I know something that could help.”

“Wait, Grandpa, don’t leave me alone with the monsters! Grandpa!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m still here.”

“Grandpa, come back in…” Charlotte got no response. “…Grandpa? Did the monsters come back and get you?! Grandpa!”

Mr. Holmes walked back in holding an old worn teddy bear. “I’m okay, it just took me a bit to find the little guy.”

Charlotte looked at the bear with interest. “Who is he?”

“His name’s Scottie. Your father used him to scare of the monsters at night when he was your age. He works like a nightlight. One look at Scottie, and even the Boogeyman was running for the hills. Your father used to brag about him all the time. You can use him as a bodyguard for tonight, if you want?”

Charlotte nodded and grabbed him, taking a close look at every part of him. He _looked_ scary enough to scare monsters away, but still felt cuddly enough that he wouldn’t scare _her._ She gave him a gentle squeeze and realized if she sniffed he even smelled a bit like her dad. Mr. Holmes smiled and walked out, leaving Charlotte to fall asleep, safe with the knowledge no monster would get her tonight.

* * *

The next evening Molly and Mycroft came knocking on the door, but to the surprise of both of them, Charlotte didn’t come running out to them, desperate to get back to their house. They walked in to see Charlotte drawing on the floor, as happy as she ever was when she had to stay for just part of the day rather than overnight. She looked up when she heard footsteps, and smiled. “You came back!”

“Well of course we came back, silly!” Molly laughed. “What masterpiece are you working on now?”

Charlotte held up her now finished picture triumphantly. “I made us! I just have to write my name on the back!”

Molly took the drawing and held it up. “Oh, you even drew Toby! If he weren’t living on that farm I bet he’d love it! And who’s next to him?”

Mycroft took a closer look at the picture. “Is…is that Scottie?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah! He helped keep the monsters away from me last night, so I thought he deserved to be in the picture too!”

Mycroft smiled. “He even had the Boogeyman running for the hills, right? I’d hate to hear he got lazy on the job.”

“Even the Boogeyman! He even scared the Boogeyman off when he was scraping a hand against the glass window!”

Mycroft laughed. “I wondered where he went. Who knew he was here all along?”

Mrs. Holmes looked up from the book she was reading. “Your father, apparently. He left all of us in the dark for ages, then just pulls him out of thin air last night!”

Charlotte ran up the stairs, and came back down holding him. “Mum, have you ever seen a bear this scary before?”

Molly laughed as she saw the patched-up bear that had clearly seen better days. “No, I don’t think I have!”

“Oh, Mycroft used to parade him all around the house, bragging about how scary he was to anyone who would listen! He even tried to sneak the poor thing out on his first day of school!” Mr. Holmes informed her.

Mycroft turned crimson as Molly laughed. Charlotte gave Scottie a squeeze. “Can we take him home with us?”

“Well…sure, why not,” Mycroft shrugged. “But he’s my bear, so he gets to sleep with me, okay?”

Charlotte held Scottie protectively. “Never!”

* * *

The car ride home was quiet for the most part, except when Molly snickered, “Did you really try to take him with you to school?”

“Shut up,” Mycroft grumbled half-heartedly. He looked in the rear-view mirror and smiled. Charlotte was asleep in the back seat, hugging Scottie so close she had gotten fur-prints from where she had been sleeping on him.


	26. The Flower Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt is from cornishrexmomma, who requested via Tumblr, (and yes, I take things there, too,)  
> I have a prompt for you….love your little stories BTW. Mycroft is madly in love with Molly and wishes to marry her but he is insecure about their approx 10 year age difference and is worried she won’t have the same feelings for him that he has for her.  
> Thanks

  * DAHLIA - Dignity and Elegance, Forever Thine
  * GLOBE AMARANTH - Unfading Love
  * GLOXINIA - Love at first sight
  * LEMON BLOSSOM - Fidelity in Love; I Promise to be True



Mycroft checked the list again as he was making the bouquet. He and Molly had been going out secretly for a year now, and he knew no matter what happened, he’d never love anyone else. So, as if he were arranging another date, he was giving her a message in Victorian Flower Language, a joke between them ever since before they had started going out, and Molly said he seemed positively Victorian. In retaliation he started sending her bouquets. It took her all of a week to figure out what was going on, and she met him for dinner by Sunday. They’d been doing this ever since, and one perk was that Sherlock never knew what was going on-he knew Molly and Mycroft were together, but could never quite reach them on their dates. But this time…this time he had to be extra careful. One dahlia, one globe amaranth, one gloxinia, and one lemon blossom. He tied them with a simple white ribbon, and hid the ring in the center. He took a deep breath and grabbed his coat. It was time to go to battle.

* * *

Mycroft walked into the morgue with the bouquet, not getting a second glance, as all the staff knew exactly what he did with the flowers and who received them every week. When he got into the morgue, Molly was just finishing up an autopsy, and getting ready to fill out the paperwork. She saw Mycroft and smiled. “Hey, you. I missed you last week.”

“Sorry, I was out of the country. To make up for it…” he held out the bouquet.

Molly smiled and took it. A voice said from behind them, “Oh, don’t tell me you’re still giving her flowers, Mycroft.”

Mycroft sighed. “Well, obviously, I am Sherlock, or I wouldn’t have just given her a bouquet.”

Molly laughed. “Play nice with him for just a minute; I need to put everything away for tomorrow.”

Mycroft nodded and watched her go into her office nervously. Sherlock took a good look at him and smirked. “What’s wrong, brother dear? Write a love letter in those flowers?”

“Sort of,” Mycroft said cryptically.

Molly heard them and rolled her eyes. The paperwork was actually all ready and she’d recorded the autopsy so she could fill everything out the next day. She just wanted to find out what Mycroft had said in private. She didn’t even need her phone for most of it-Mycroft had given her three of the flowers before enough she could find out easily what he was saying. Gloxinia, he had given that to her last year. To the day, she realized. It had been exactly one year since he’d started giving her flowers. Love at first sight. She smiled. Globe amaranth, he gave to her almost every other bouquet. Undying love. Dahlia was a newer one, but she still recognized it as meaning forever thine. She giggled as she thought back to when she looked up what it meant in front of him and he’d turned crimson until she reassured him it was fine, and she wasn’t weirded out. She knew he was sensitive to their 10 year age difference, and tried to take things slow where he could to ensure she never felt uncomfortable with their relationship. But when she came to the lemon blossom, she was confused. She looked it up. “I promise to be true…? What does that mean…” she murmured.

Still, even if she didn’t know, she figured she may as well put the bouquet in the special vase she reserved for these flowers. She undid the ribbon as she placed them in the water, and heard a little tinkle next to the vase by the ribbon. She picked up the object for closer examination and gasped. It was a ring. Not just any ring, an _engagement_ ring. “O-oh my gosh!” She ran out of her office, tackling Mycroft in a hug. “Yes! Yes!”

Sherlock looked at them confused. Then he caught the glitter of the diamond and his jaw dropped. When Mycroft finally broke the hug, he asked almost hesitantly, “Could I put it on your finger now?”

Molly nodded, laughing. Mycroft slipped it on her hand and Molly started crying. Sherlock just looked at the two in amazement. “How long have you two exactly…?”

“One year to the day since he started sending me flowers,” Molly explained.

Mycroft smirked at Sherlock. “Looks like you were right. Caring can be an advantage after all.”

He and Molly walked out hand in hand, and Sherlock was left alone in the morgue, bracing himself when his mother would call him, ecstatic, and he’d have to pretend to be remotely excited. Still, if anyone were going to treat Molly well, it would be Mycroft, and in that respect, Sherlock couldn’t deny that they should be together.


	27. Waiting For a Girl Like You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next prompt…teenlock, which usually means an awkward or cold Mycroft, or maybe a mix of both, and a bubbly and energetic Molly. At least, that’s always how the teen scenes play out in my head. What do you mean that’s not canon, shut up. *clears throat* Anyway…I have this prompt from Libby on FanFiction:  
> If you're still taking requests: Could you do a teen!lock, where Mycroft meets Molly at Sherlock's (unrequested and hosted by their mother) birthday party.  
> And thus, this came to the front of my mind. If you want to listen to the song, it’s called Waiting For a Girl Like You by Foreigner.

Mycroft was sitting against the back of the house at Sherlock’s birthday party, at the demand-sorry, _request_ -of his mother. He was working on some notes for when he had to go back to Uni next week, at the end of summer break. A lot of people their mother invited to the party Sherlock didn’t like or didn’t like Sherlock. He’d be fine if it were just John there, even though he also tolerated Greg and Molly, he didn’t do much more than talk to them, and Anderson and Donovan and just about everyone else was acting nice to him because it was his party. Suddenly there was a shadow over his notes and he looked up. “Oh, hello, Molly.”

“Hi…Um, aren’t you going to do something other than read out here?”

Mycroft sighed. “I’m going back to Uni next week and I wanted to get a head start on my notes so I’m not drowning in work when I get back. I’m only out here at all because apparently I’m required.”

“I…I thought you were only 18 this year?”

“I am. Like Sherlock, I skipped a couple grades.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry, of course, I should’ve figured that you would, being related to Sherlock I guess it would be hard not to. Be smart, I mean. Because IQs are actually linked to genes a certain amount, so with even that head start, it would probably be a no-brainer that you would—“

“You talk an awful lot, Molly.”

“Oh, you said you were studying, sorry! I’ll leave you alone…” Molly started to walk away.

Mycroft grabbed her hand. “I didn’t say that was a bad thing. Sit with me?”

Molly blushed at Mycroft holding her hand, but sat next to him anyway, and he soon dropped her hand noticing her discomfort. “How old are you, anyway?”

“Oh, I’m 14. I missed getting admitted into the year above me by a week, so I’m one of the oldest in our class. Sherlock is obviously the youngest.”

“I think you’d be hard-pressed to find someone younger, yeah.”

Molly laughed. Mycroft smiled at her, a little confused as to why this girl of all people had caught his interest. “So…how do you know Sherlock, and how did you not punch him the moment he opened his mouth?”

“Well, he got assigned to be my science partner this year because he came in late and I was the only one without someone else, and I mean, yeah, I knew the horror stories…but he seemed to be much more interested in the equipment and what we’d be doing than anything else. He just seemed really into science. And I want to be a doctor when I graduate…so that gave me a more generous view of him before he actually insulted me. And it took him a while, too. Usually it was just things like, ‘You were in charge of feeding the cat this morning,’ or ‘Running late again, I see.’ It wasn’t until he mentioned my dad being really sick I snapped at him, then he insulted me for a few days, but soon he was back to being quiet and sullen, and we just…I don’t know, found a way to work together.”

“That’s rare with Sherlock. As soon as I left for Uni, he shut me out for leaving.”

“That doesn’t seem fair, if you’re older, you’re going to leave before him, nothing unusual or wrong about it.”

Mycroft smiled sardonically. “Well, someone here would argue against you on that.”

Molly was about to say something when they heard a radio start to let its songs drift into the air, and _Waiting For A Girl Like You_ came on. Molly laughed. “I love this song.”

“Oh, really? Then may I treat you to a dance?” Mycroft asked, holding a hand in front of her.

Molly giggled and took the hand. “Sure.”

Mycroft pulled her up and held her hips as she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Quick confession, I’m not a great dancer,” Molly whispered.

Mycroft smiled. “It’s okay, this kind of dancing is only dancing in the loosest sense of the word. If you want to actually dance, I could teach you.”

“Sure, why not.”

“Really?”

“Well, I wouldn’t try out for any competitions, but I could learn the basic steps.”

Mycroft laughed. “Just follow my lead. First a step to your right, then back, then left, then forward, then right again.”

“But…wouldn’t we just be going in a circle?”

“Square. It’s called the box step. Most basic step of a waltz.”

Molly looked down at her feet. “Okay, right, then back, then…”

“Molly, just follow my lead. You’ll do fine.”

Molly looked up at him and smiled. They danced through the whole song, Mycroft occasionally singing under his breath. When the song stopped, someone finally noticed them dancing, and Molly took a step back, embarrassed. Mycroft took a look around to see who called them out, and found himself glaring at Sherlock. Sherlock smirked at him in a way that made it look like Mycroft was trying to make a move on Molly and had gotten caught in the act. Mycroft picked up his notes, turned around swiftly and went up to his room to finish his work. He heard footsteps behind him but honestly couldn’t care if he got scolded, he was done playing the role of the “good older brother.” Instead of seeing his mother’s reflection in his mirror, though, he saw Molly. He turned around and she smiled. “Yeah, Sherlock’s been doing that to me recently, too. But…I don’t think I ever got your name.”

“It’s…uh, Mycroft.”

Molly smiled. “Okay then, Mycroft, before I say good-bye, I’d like to give you this.” She came over and gave him a kiss. “Thanks for the dance.”

She left the room and Mycroft was glad no one saw him staring after her until his pencil clattered to the floor from his loose grip. He picked it up quickly and went back to taking his notes, but kept finding his eyes wandering out a window to catch a glimpse at Molly. Round the fifth time he gave up. “Screw it,” he muttered as he walked back downstairs and back outside to find Molly again.

She saw him coming out and smiled. He walked over to her and grabbed her hand, saying, “I have some music you might like in my room, if you want to dance some more?”

Molly nodded. Mycroft took her up to his room and they danced the rest of the day. When she finally had to leave and they came down, Sherlock nearly gagged: Mycroft had Molly’s lipstick smeared all over his face, and even on his lips. “I’ve been waiting all my life for a girl like her…” Mycroft said, laughing, before he went back up to his room to work on his notes and add Molly to his contacts book.


	28. Warm Laundry and Heavy Sleepers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had no prompt requests, so I went out and found some thanks to the lovely OTP Prompts on Tumblr! Once sifting through my ideas doc now filled with prompts, I decided to do this one:  
> Imagine person A or your OTP has gotten little to no sleep the past few days, but still has way too many chores to do. They decide to start with the laundry, but the clothes in the dryer are so warm and cozy…  
> (Bonus points if person B finds them bent over the dryer, asleep) (Bonus bonus points if B calls C to help them carry A back to their room)  
> You guys much have to watch your sugar intake soon, because I’m writing so much fluffy sweetness. Though I did warn you guys. “Fluff is my strong point,” and all that.

Mycroft felt a bit like a zombie lately. Negotiations had gone sour between him and the Americans, because _someone_ felt the need to bring up the scandal. It had taken him 3 days and as many nights to keep anything rash from happening, and he hadn’t even begun to help Molly with the chores yet. He decided to do laundry first, thinking that maybe the cold in the basement could wake him up long enough to do something else as well.

He was right, the basement was _freezing_ -sometimes he really hated November-and he tried to quickly make his way to the laundry room so he could get back upstairs. He heard the dryer already on, and mentally groaned—now Molly wasn’t doing just her own work, she was doing his too? He heard a ding indicating the dryer was done, and quickly walked in the room and opened it. Steam wafted out of it into the cold air. Mycroft reached his hands in and almost recoiled at the warmth. But upon further inspection as he folded the clothes and put them in a laundry basket, he realized they felt quite nice. He got out another handful and yawned as he folded them. The warmth was starting to make him feel tired again. He doggedly kept at it, until he reached in for another handful and couldn’t even sit up. Instead of trying to get help though, he just closed his eyes and ran a hand through the warm clothes. It felt so warm, and he hadn’t slept for days, and he just needed to rest his eyes for a minute…

* * *

Molly knew Mycroft had come home, but she hadn’t heard anything from him in 45 minutes. That usually meant nothing good. He wasn’t anywhere in the house she could see, then she decided to check the basement. She still saw no sign of him until she walked in the laundry room and then she had to cover her mouth and stifle her laughing to try and keep Mycroft from waking up. She snapped a picture of him covered in warm laundry before going over to him and trying to shake him awake, if only to get him to bed. He wouldn’t wake up. She heard a knock at the front door and went to answer it. It was Sherlock. She pulled him inside and said, “I need your help with something quickly. Whatever you need, I’ll do afterward, but right now I need a bit more muscle than I have.”

Sherlock followed her down to the basement and laughed out loud when he saw Mycroft passed out in the laundry. Molly told him, “I have a picture. Technically speaking, my phone takes 3 in 1 ever since you messed with it. I’ll send you a copy if you can help me carry him up to our bed.”

Sherlock pulled Mycroft out of the dryer and held him up around the shoulders. Molly grabbed his legs and used all the strength she had to lift him up. It took them a while, but Sherlock and Molly eventually fell into a rhythm with each other to get Mycroft up the stairs and into bed. Molly sighed and shook out her arms in slight pain when she finally put him down, before looking at Sherlock and saying, “Thanks,” a little breathlessly.

Sherlock shrugged. “Will you help me now?”

Molly nodded and listened to the case, following him out and locking the house door behind her as they made their way to the morgue. She just hoped she wouldn’t come back to the house to find Mycroft trying to help out around the house again-he had enough on his plate at work without her making him do things around the house too.


	29. Angel With a Shotgun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So…just me. I’ve been listening to the song Angel With a Shotgun and I love it so much even though I’ve only been really listening to it for about 3-4 days, and I wanted to write this, because in a weird way, it seemed to fit. Enjoy.

“Mycroft, are you sure about this?” Sherlock asked.

Mycroft didn’t answer for a while, and when he finally did, it was with the sharp snap of the safety on a gun being clicked off. “As sure as I’ve ever been.”

Sherlock swallowed and nodded. “Back room?”

“Unlikely. This neighborhood still has a few people who could hear Molly. Basement seems like the better bet.”

“I wish you’d wait for backup.”

“Yeah, well, backup will let these guys know we’re onto them.” Mycroft glanced into one of the windows. “I have a better chance of getting Molly out alive if I go in there alone.”

“You have a better chance of getting both of you killed, you mean.”

“Shut up. It was completely your choice to follow me here.”

Sherlock sighed. His brother had a point and determination all over his face. There was no way he was going to take this lying down. “Just be careful.”

Mycroft picked the lock and smiled. “When am I not?”

He snuck into the house silently, keeping to the shadows as long as possible. There was no one on the ground floor as far as he could see, though the single-serving size bags of something or another gave away the inhabitants presence. He found the basement door and two goons guarding it. He stepped out of the shadows, “Gentlemen…” he smiled. “Where is Miss Hooper?”

* * *

Several shots rang through the basement and Molly sat back in the corner of the bathroom, knowing that could mean nothing good. The shooting came closer, and then there was silence. Finally, a soft voice called, “Molly?”

“I’m here!” she yelled from the bathroom. “I’m trapped but I’m here!”

Mycroft walked in sporting some nasty bullet wounds and several cuts. “There’s more on the first floor, aren’t there?”

Molly nodded. “Their boss sleeps up there, from what I’ve heard of their conversations. Who did you tick off this time?”

“I didn’t. They wanted to grab my attention to send a warning, not to punish me for something I already did. Which is probably the only reason you’re still alive.”

Mycroft undid the duct tape keeping her tied to the piping under the sink, and Molly reached out to examine a bullet wound in Mycroft’s arm. He winced as she touched it. “Don’t do that, please. My nerves are still working there. Not that they are much of anywhere else.”

“How many people were out there, exactly?”

“Only the first two put up a fight. Five more surrendered the moment I leveled the gun at them. The one guarding here took a few harmless shots to scare, but he didn’t try anything.”

Molly smiled. “You’re going to be in big trouble when your boss hears about this.”

“I couldn’t care less right now. I need you safe before anything else, and we’re not quite out of the woods yet.”

Molly stood up shakily. “Well, then. We’d better get out of here, before their boss wakes up and realizes what’s going on.”

Mycroft nodded and led her out, one arm around her waist at all times to make sure she didn’t fall over. When they walked out and Sherlock saw them, he said, “The car is waiting a block over. Lestrade is almost here, I recommend both of you leave before they storm in and spook whoever’s still breathing.”

Molly looked over at Mycroft. “You said they surrendered, though.”

“Sherlock just likes to make me seem all bad and threatening. But he has a point, they’ll want to know what happened, and I’d appreciate not being known as a vigilante.”

“Aren’t you?”

“No,” Sherlock said. “He’s an angel with a shotgun. Follow me.”

Mycroft smirked at that comment and Molly looked at him suspiciously. “Could you get fired for this?”

Mycroft nodded.

“And you did it anyway? I thought you wouldn’t give up your job for the world!”

“I wouldn’t. But I would give it up for you.” He sighed. “I did already. I was told explicitly that if I carried this out I may as well hand in my letter of resignation. They’ll be getting it tomorrow with the report of my injuries.”

“Speaking of, we really need to get you to the hospital to help with that.”

Sherlock opened the back door of the car. “I’ll drive. Molly, make sure Mycroft doesn’t pass out from blood loss until he gets scolded by our mother over the phone later.”

Molly giggled despite herself. “Okay, consider it done.” She undid Mycroft’s tie and wrapped it firmly around his arm with the bullet holes. Given it was only on that one arm, he’d used it as a shield from somewhere else on his body from receiving harm. The other scratches looked like they might just be from protruding nails in the walls, so he probably would just need a tetanus shot for those, but not much else. “Thanks for rescuing me,” Molly said quietly so that Sherlock wouldn’t hear.

Mycroft laughed just as softly. “You make it sound like I had a choice. I love you too much for that.” He leant back against the seat and sighed. “Though I think my vision is starting to get fuzzy around the edges, so we probably should go a little faster. Sherlock?”

“I heard you.” Sherlock flipped a switch near the hazards and a siren pierced the night air. “I don’t steal a car without thinking about what it might need first.”

Mycroft closed his eyes before opening them again quickly when he realized just how close to sleeping he just was. Molly looked at him concerned. “I’m okay,” he reassured her. “I’ll be okay.”

* * *

Molly went to visit Mycroft the next day at the end of her shift. He was just about ready to be released, the damage wasn’t too serious and he seemed to be with enough of a clear head that with some supervision he should be back working within the week. That is, if he hadn’t been placed on “official suspension.” Molly wasn’t an idiot; she knew this suspension probably wasn’t going to actually end. But when she asked Mycroft about it, he just shrugged.

“You’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

“But…everything they’re doing to you, placing you on leave without pay, saying you should look into other job opportunities…it’s not fair!”

“It doesn’t have to be. The man who took you had more use than me at the moment, so they chose to side with him.”

“And you’re fine with that?!”

“You’re safe, Molly. As long as you’re safe, I could care less what everyone else thinks.” He gave her a kiss. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to sign the rest of the paperwork before I leave. That way they have no excuse when someone calls me up within the week saying I’m needed.”

Molly looked at him confused. Mycroft explained with a gleam in his eye, “I’ll have to explain I was suspended without pay, and couldn’t help. At some point in the conversation they’ll have to admit that I have more importance than the scum who grabbed you off the street, they’ll have to deal with him accordingly, and my position will be more secure than before. Of course, you’ll have to be watched closely too so that I don’t threaten to quit again next time you’re in danger, but when we started going out and I warned you about everything, you shrugged it off. So…”

Molly laughed. “I really shouldn’t be surprised you had thought that far ahead with everything. Though I’m Marie Antoinette if you’re an angel like Sherlock said.”

“Sherlock said I was an angel with a shotgun. That leaves room for some less than desirable behavior, does it not?”

Molly laughed. “Okay, then, Mr. Angel. Sign you papers and then come home with me. I have a surprise you might like.”

Mycroft arched an eyebrow. “What kind of surprise?”

Molly smiled and pulled out a little box, exactly like the one Mycroft had bought the week previous. Though instead of having the ring inside, there was just a little scrap of paper, with a single word on it: _yes._


	30. Let It Go, Mycroft!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I have 2 requests that I’m tying into one, just because the plan for the first falls in line with the second as well, hope neither of you guys feel cheated at all…  
> The first request came from allie on FF:  
> If you're still taking prompts:  
> As Molly is unaviable for some reason, Mycroft has to jump in and take their daughters to the cinema to watch Frozen... turns out he really, really likes it.  
> And the second is from a wonderful anon on Tumblr (I love knowing people think of me there, too):  
> Will you do a Mollcroft parentlock Christmas themed short? I'll love you forever. :3  
> And thus this one shot was formulated. Enjoy!

Mycroft was walking with his two daughters Annabeth and Samantha to the theater to see “Frozen” grumbling under his breath. He understood Molly was up to her eyes in work and he had hit a dry spell in Sherlock’s antics, but that didn’t mean he was happy being the one the girls went to whenever they wanted to go somewhere. Samantha was 8, Annabeth was 6, and both of them were in the peak years for watching Disney movies, so they were naturally excited when one of them was being screened just a few blocks from their house. Though Mycroft knew Samantha suspected he had something to do with it, just by the way she’d throw him looks every once in a while that meant, _what exactly DO you do when you go to work?,_ and the fact that she watched him carefully whenever he reacted to something going on close to them that either she or Annabeth liked. She sent him one of those looks now, and he gave her a half-hearted smile in return. She was growing up to be just like him, he’d have to watch out. Annabeth looked at the both of them, knowing something was going on but too preoccupied to figure out what.

When they got to the theater, Annabeth nearly sprinted forward, but Samantha caught her by one of Annabeth’s brown braids. “Dad still has to get the tickets, remember?”

Annabeth pulled her hair out of Samantha’s grip and stuck her tongue out at her. “Someday you’re gonna let your hair grow long, and then I can do the same thing to you!”

Samantha smirked, playing with her light blonde hair that she shared with Molly’s brothers. “But that isn’t any time soon, now is it?”

“Behave you two,” Mycroft said as he walked up to the counter and got the tickets.

He gave one ticket to both of them, and kept one for himself, before leading them both towards the screening room.

* * *

Mycroft sat down between Samantha and Annabeth to avoid any fights after the lights went out. He scoffed at the opening, but by the time “Do You Want to Build a Snowman” played, he was grudgingly admitting that the movie might not be as bad as he thought. By the time “Let it Go” played, he was actually letting a smile flick across his face every now and again. Annabeth kept sending looks to him, and Samantha smiled like she already knew what was going on in Annabeth's mind. Mycroft looked down at Annabeth but she was back to staring at the screen intently. He tried to figure out what connections she was trying to make, however incorrect the conclusion might come from it, but she had as good of a mask as anyone in the Holmes family when she put her mind to it, and he couldn’t get anything from her.

He didn’t think that boded well for him.

* * *

At the end of the movie (even after the short at the end of the credits) Mycroft managed to make a face of slight confusion and offense when Annabeth asked if he liked it. “Please. Just the plot alone should have made the entire project be scrapped. Because there  _was no real plot._ ”

Annabeth pouted. “Well, I liked it!”

Samantha tried real hard to bite back an insult, biting her fist and turning so she couldn’t see her younger sister. But when Annabeth continued to gush, Samantha took a big breath, whipped her head back to face the others and said, “What will it take for you to just _shut up?!_ ”

Annabeth looked her right in the eyes with a devilish smile and said, “Grow your hair out long enough for it to be Elsa’s.”

“Um. No.”

“Suit yourself. But I’m gonna start singing Let It Go if you don’t promise.”

Mycroft tried to interject but Samantha was now yelling and Annabeth proceeded to start ~~screeching~~ singing at the top of her lungs. All he could do was clamp a hand over each of their mouths and move them outside and away from each other as quickly as possible.

When they were outside and both girls were quiet for a while, Mycroft took his hands off her mouths. As soon as he did, Annabeth said, “I want everyone to start calling me Anna.”

Samantha laughed. “Right, because that’s ever going to happen.”

“Well then I want to dye a white streak into one of my braids.”

“Absolutely not,” Mycroft said.

“Well then I want to be called Anna!”

Mycroft sighed. “Okay, Anna. Any other demands before we continue on our way home?”

“Yeah. I want to know if you’re actually like Elsa.”

Mycroft stopped walking and looked down at her, confused. “What?”

“You know,” Annabeth gestured with her hands. “Do you have powers like her? I mean, why else would Uncle Sherlock call you the Ice Man?”

Samantha burst out laughing.

“No, sorry honey. I’m not like Elsa. As for why Sherlock calls me the Ice Man…it’s an inside joke between him, Aunt Irene, and myself.”

Annabeth nodded and looked down at her shoes. Mycroft didn’t hear another word about it.

* * *

Weeks passed and it was now Christmas. Everyone was out in the countryside, Sherlock and Mycroft trying to be civil while the kids opened their presents. Mycroft noticed his mother kept on sending him looks almost like she expected a fight to break out. He kept on glancing over at her to meet her gaze, then went back to looking at Annabeth and Samantha with their 5-year-old cousin Hamish (Irene insisted on the name when she came back from the dead 6 months pregnant with a boy.) All the presents for the three of them were opened, and they were debating who should give the presents to the adults. Specifically, they were arguing over Mycroft’s present, wrapped in inconspicuous red and white striped paper. Eventually, Molly stepped in before fists became involved and handed the box off to Mycroft. Judging by the size and weight of the box, it was probably a tie, but he honestly wasn’t expecting the snowflake pattern on top of white fabric that in the right light, could be seen as nearly transparent.

He laughed as he pulled it out. Irene snapped a picture. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with this, Samantha?”

Samantha flipped her now shoulder-length braid of hair as much as she could and said, “Well, I was the one who wrapped it, but the idea was purely Anna’s.”

Annabeth smiled. “Well, I mean, Uncle Sherlock calls you the Ice Man…like Elsa…and if Elsa wore suits and ties instead of dresses, I think she’d wear something like that, don’t you?”

Sherlock nearly choked on his punch when he was called out, and Irene smirked. Mycroft ignored them and just replaced his old tie with the new one, saying, “Yes, but this is the only time I’m going to wear this, though, just because it’s meant as something to do with Frozen. That movie was terrible.”

“Oh, let it go, Mycroft! You liked it just as much as either of the girls!” Molly exclaimed.

Annabeth smiled at the hidden reference and started to sing at the top of her lungs. Hamish covered his ears and Samantha lip-synched it as best she could with Annabeth’s lack of rhythm. Mycroft made a quick exit from the room, and Sherlock followed him, a pack of cigarettes in hand for them to share while he tried to figure out how Mycroft got to keep his girl’s mouths shut.


	31. Dates and Other Such Domestics

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next prompt is from Guest on FF who said:
> 
> Mollcroft date night. Bonus points for cake
> 
> So many options, so little time. Heheheh…this should be fun.

Mycroft had his hands stuffed in his pockets as he waited outside the restaurant for Molly. He was just about to admit the whole idea was a bust when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and almost gasped at what he saw. Molly, in all of her self-consciousness, in a black dress that accented her curves and would make any man's imagination start to act up. Mycroft turned slightly pink at the direction his mind was taking him.

Molly shifted as he looked her up and down. "Is the dress too much?"

Mycroft struggled to find his voice. "You…you look…amazing…"

Molly smiled brightly. "Really?"

Mycroft mutely nodded. After a while he realized they were still outside and could have kicked himself. "We should probably get our table now before they give it to someone else."

Molly looked around them and also belatedly realized they were still with all of the other customers and were getting more than a few stares. "Yeah, that would be a good idea, I think."

Mycroft walked her inside and could have hit himself.  _Stupid, this night was supposed to leave a_ good  _impression!_

Molly was thinking much of the same thing.  _He was probably just waiting for me to shut up and couldn't wait anymore. What an idiot I am!_

They got a table in the back of the restaurant and sat reading the menu awkwardly. "The fish looks good," Mycroft said in an attempt to make conversation.

"I'm not sure what I should get…" Molly said, looking over the menu. One thing at the bottom caught her eye. "Oh, that looks interesting…"

A waiter came over to their table. "May I take your orders?" he asked.

"The pan-seared striped bass for me," Mycroft said, handing the waiter his menu.

"Hmm…" Molly said. She showed the waiter the food she wanted and said embarrassed, "I don't know how to pronounce that, but it looks lovely." And just low enough that Mycroft couldn't hear, "And a little cheesecake for dessert, it's his birthday but he's too stubborn to admit that he wants a piece of cake every once in a while."

The waiter smiled and took her menu. "Excellent choice, miss."

Molly nodded and muttered her thanks, training her eye on her hands. Mycroft waved a hand in front of her face. "Don't do that, you're too pretty to hide your face."

Molly blushed. "Don't say things like that if you want to see my face ever again!"

"Why?"

"Because I don't like looking at people when I blush!"

Mycroft started to chuckle. "Come on, don't be shy! Look up!"

"No."

"Come ooon," Mycroft whined. "Look up!"

"No!" Molly looked away, smiling.

Mycroft tried to tilt her chin up but she swatted his hand away. This continued until the waiter came back with their food. He placed it in front of them with a knowing smile that would speak more than words ever could. Both of them stopped playing around like kids and got ready to eat. From the first bite both of them knew it was a good idea to come here rather than somewhere else. Mycroft kept thinking  _Screw my diet, this is too good to pass up._

Molly looked over at him and smiled. She hadn't been here in years, but from the second she realized his birthday was coming up, that a little table in the back would be perfect. The tilapia she had was really spicy, just the way she liked it, and Mycroft playfully stole a piece and put it in his mouth before his eyes started to water. Molly laughed and took a piece of his food while he was too busy to notice. Mycroft didn't touch her plate again the rest of the night.

They talked little as they finished up their food, and the waiter promptly came up to them with a cheesecake drizzled in chocolate syrup with a candle on top. Mycroft looked to Molly. "You shouldn't have. Now my diet is completely ruined," he complained with a genuine smile on his face.

"You deserve it. It's your birthday, and to be completely honest the only people who think you're fat are Sherlock and you, and you don't count because Sherlock convinced you of it 'in a moment of weakness' as you'd put it."

"What did I ever do to get an angel for a girlfriend?"

"Well, I hope it wasn't selling your soul to the devil, or that'd make for an awkward relationship," Molly said, wiping her fork free of all the spices from her dinner so Mycroft wouldn't accidentally get a bite of spicy cheesecake, if he even actually ate. She was really pleased when he finally did and his eyes actually closed for a second in pleasure.

"This has been amazing," he muttered, looking over at her. "How did you know about this place?"

Molly smiled. "I came here with my family a few years back and have been trying to find an excuse to come back. Tonight seemed like a good one."

Mycroft smiled back at her and continued eating the cheesecake, thinking things over. Technically they had been going out for a few weeks, but this was their first proper date. All of the others they had gone on they had just ran in to each other and decided to sit down somewhere to talk. Molly noticed him zoning out and tried not to laugh. "I'm not boring you, am I?"

Mycroft snapped to attention. "No, no. I was just thinking how I'm usually not good at this sort of thing. I mean, it's been a while since I've tried…"

"Dating?" Molly supplied.

"…And other such domestics, yeah. It's better than I remembered. Must be the company."

Molly blushed. "Stop it, you."

"Make me," Mycroft challenged.

Molly grinned and flung a small piece of cheesecake at him. He wiped it off with his fingers and licked them, but not before flinging some of it back at Molly. A food fight erupted at their table and they found themselves being escorted out of the restaurant. Molly laughed. "I think that's the first time I've ever been kicked out of a restaurant for having too much fun."

Mycroft smiled. "It's been years since it last happened to me, but it's not the first time."

"Why were you kicked out?"

"Because I was trying to be nice to Sherlock, and he suspected a trap. I smelled like salad dressing for days."

Molly burst out laughing and Mycroft laughed with her, getting the last bit of their cake off her cheek. She swatted at him. "People will stare!"

"Then let them," he said indifferently, leading them over to a nondescript black car. "Because I'm certainly not going to stop."


	32. You Think They're WHAT?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, provided I actually found it in me to update the Files after what I've been through, you should know the context for this. A lovely 'nonny on Tumblr asked
> 
> OMG will you do a Mollcroft for me? :3 One where their kids have witnessed a dispute of some sort and want to arrange something nice for their parents, because their uncle Sherlock was smart and planted the thought of divorce in their racing little brains?
> 
> I'll be using the triplets' 'verse, because, let's face it, I just really, really want them to come back.

"Mycroft, have you seen the car keys?"

"Why would I have seen the car keys?"

"Because you haven't been preoccupied with Victoria saying she needs help with her dress and Hamish and Tom have been hiding in their room for an hour."

Mycroft stood up from where he was organizing the triplets' suitcases. "No, I haven't seen the car keys, all right?"

"How are we supposed to go anywhere if you've lost the car keys?!"

" _I_ didn't lose the car keys! You're the one who last used the car! So even if the keys  _were_ lost, it would be your fault!"

Molly's jaw dropped open. " _My fault?! This whole thing was your idea in the first place!_ "

Someone cleared their throat on the stairs. It was Victoria. She may have been the youngest of the triplets, which was often held over her, but she was by far the most mature. She held up her hand to show a small key ring. "Tom was betting Hamish 5 quid he couldn't swallow them." She tossed the key ring down the stairs, and Mycroft quickly grabbed it. "Are you sure they're 9? I think they might've stopped growing up at about 3."

"Well, considering the three of you are triplets, if you're 9, they should be 9 too, Victoria," Mycroft said. "They're just boys."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Why couldn't I have had a sister instead of 2 brothers…"

"Blame your father," Molly snipped. "He's the one with the Y chromosome."

Victoria was about to say something but never finished, because Hamish and Ben came bounding down the stairs straight into their sister. The three groaned and Molly reached the end of her rope. "All right! That's it! You win! I can't take it anymore, I'm leaving! I need some air. I'll tell my brothers you say hello."

Molly stormed out of the house before anyone could make a sound. Then, finally, Victoria muttered, "Way to go, geniuses."

Mycroft sighed. "She'll be fine, I hope. You three, grab your suitcases. You still have to stay with Uncle Sherlock for a few days."

* * *

Mycroft corralled the triplets into 221B and Sherlock made his  _do I really have to?_ face. Then he took a closer look at Mycroft. "Is Molly mad at you again?"

"I don't know. She's definitely  _mad._  What she's mad  _at_ tends to be more open to interpretation."

Sherlock snorted. "Good luck, then."

Mycroft sighed. "Molly's the least of my problems right now. I have to trust  _you_ to watch these three."

Sherlock waved Mycroft away from the door before he closed it and turned to look at his three new responsibilities. Tom and Hamish were transfixed by Sherlock's skull. Victoria had found Sherlock's violin and was seeing if she could use it. The first few notes were little more than screeches, but slowly they flowed into the theme from  _Doctor Who_. "Could you play  _Radioactive_ next?" Tom asked.

Hamish gave his brother a look. "You remember what happened last time she tried that? I couldn't hear for like, a week after!"

Victoria experimented with some of the notes and got a few bars of the chorus done before she had to stop. "This is hurting my head," she complained. "If I really want to play I need my own violin, not one that is twice the size I usually use!"

Sherlock took it from her. "Well, did you bring your own violin?"

Victoria shook her head. "Mum said I lost my privileges because I played one of the parts for  _Three Screaming Popes_."

Hamish laughed. "Mum was  _really_ red in the face when she finally found Victoria hiding by one of the vents. She nearly broke the bow in half grabbing it!"

"Has Mo-your Mum been angry a lot lately?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah. She seems to go off at every little thing," Tom said.

"She claimed she was just really tired when I asked her," Hamish added.

"She's not tired, idiots. At least, not like you guys think of it. She's more tired with the routine issues, I think," Victoria sighed, her deduction skills the most trained of the three.

Sherlock hummed in thought. "I wonder…you don't think…"

Tom and Hamish were screaming, "What, what?!" While Victoria's eyes widened. "No, no way! She wouldn't!"

"You think she's WHAT?!" The boys were irritated that they seemed to be the last ones to know what was going on in the family. Victoria pointed an accusing finger at Sherlock. "Uncle Sherlock is saying Mum wants a divorce!"

Sherlock raised his hands. "I'm not saying that's what actually is going on, it's just a theory…"

"But you noticed she was mad by looking at Dad, you asked him about it!" Victoria argued. "You  _think_  that's what's going on, and you say that you're never wrong! You say you're smarter than Dad, which I don't believe, but if both you and Dad think something is going on, then something has to, doesn't it?!"

Tom and Hamish looked at each other in shock, before turning to Victoria. "Well, how do we stop her? You're a girl, you know about feelings!"

Victoria rolled her eyes. "That's not why. But I don't know. And I refuse to believe Mum wants a divorce."

Tom and Hamish turned to Sherlock. "So what do we do?" Tom asked.

"I don't know. Maybe do something nice to make her see why she stayed?" Sherlock shrugged.

"What?" Both boys asked in unison.

Victoria rolled her eyes. "Don't you ever listen to Mum and Dad's stories? Dad screwed up big time back before we were born, he said a few things he shouldn't have, and Mum was ready to walk away from him. But then Dad took her to Paris as a last chance to get on her good side. With all the work he put into making her happy, Mum couldn't stay mad at him, so when he proposed on the last day of their trip, she said yes."

"So, what? Do we send them to Paris again?" Tom asked sarcastically, not impressed.

Victoria's eyes got a mischievous glint to them. "Why not? Dad had to go there for a meeting, right? That's why we're here over break. All we have to do is get Mum over there, get both of them in the same place, and then leave them to do the rest!"

"And how do you plan to do that?" Sherlock asked.

"Do you have the money for us to go on the Eurostar? I can pay you back later," Victoria giggled.

* * *

Molly heard her cell phone ring the next day as she was waking up in the bedroom she'd had at her parent's house before she moved out and her brother Zack bought the place. She saw it was Sherlock's number and rushed to answer it, in case something had happened to the kids. "Sherlock? Is something wrong?"

"Mum!" It was Victoria on the other end, sounding unusually cheery. "Guess what? Uncle Sherlock managed to get tickets for the Eurostar, and he said we could go to Paris!"

"WHAT?!"

Victoria seemed oblivious to Molly's concern. "Yeah! Isn't that cool? Tom and Hamish are saying they want to go to Disneyland, but I'm hoping to see the Louvre. Anyway, gotta go, Uncle Sherlock says we have to check in soon, and he wants to save his phone battery for pictures later. Bye!"

"Victoria, wait!" The line went dead. Molly quickly dialed Mycroft's number, and as soon as she heard him pick up, she said, "Are you aware your brother is taking our kids to Paris?"

There was a stretch of silence on the other end of the line before a very loud curse. "I knew I shouldn't have trusted Sherlock! Hang on, I'll be right over, then we can figure out what to do next."

Molly got dressed and heard a knock at the door 15 minutes later, and hurried to the doorstep to see Zack looking unimpressed at a panting Mycroft on the doorstep. "Your nutter of a husband is here, don't invite him in."

"Don't worry, I'm leaving with him." She shut the door behind her before Zack could ask what was going on. "Why are you here? I thought you had a meeting overseas?"

"I actually had a long meeting last night followed by several more meetings today and tomorrow, and they're all over the place. It's a good think I'm not expected in America for another 21 hours, I need some time to find an excuse other than  _my brother kidnapped my children and took them to France_."

"Say there was a death in the family, and ask if you can arrange to be on a video chat instead."

"To the best of my knowledge, no one in the family has died."

Molly gave him a look. "Oh believe me, before this is done, there  _will_ be at least one corpse on the floor. Sherlock instead of the kids, if at all possible, but Victoria too if she had a hand in this, which she probably did."

They walked to a car and got in. "Apparently they've already boarded the train. Do you think we could still catch them if we flew?"

Mycroft started typing quickly on his phone. "I can do one better. I can put Sherlock on Interpol's active terrorist list."

"Isn't that a little…extreme?"

Mycroft gave her an incredulous stare. "Said the woman who just admitted to having murderous impulses."

"He's your brother," Molly pointed out.

"Which is why I don't go to catch him. He'd be dead the second I saw him."

Molly sat there in silence. "…So what do we do?"

"I imagine you should probably start going to Paris to retrieve the three terrors, while I find a way out of my meetings to yell at Sherlock."

Molly grabbed Mycroft's hand and gave it a squeeze. "You know I'm not really mad, right?"

Mycroft kissed her forehead. "Of course. You've just been overworked lately. If you want, I could see what I can do about your working hours, because sadly I can't do anything about the triplets."

"Hmm. Tempting…but I think I'll have to pass. Someone has to make sure Sherlock doesn't blow up half of London."

"I knew there was a reason I loved you."

"Just one?" Molly looked offended. "And to think I was feeling guilty at having only 5! Just for that, I'm staying with you until we can go to Paris together."

Mycroft grinned and got on the phone with his superiors, trying to get out of going to his meetings. At the end of the phone call he and Molly were at a private airport with a small plane to take off. "There are actually more than 5 reasons, right?" he asked.

Molly laughed.

* * *

2 hours later, Sherlock was sitting handcuffed to a desk in an uncomfortable chair at Interpol's Paris office. He sighed and banged his head on the desk repeatedly, wondering if he hit it hard enough if it was possible he could knock himself out before waking up at Baker Street. Those hopes were quickly dashed as he heard Mycroft coming up from behind him. "Molly doesn't want a divorce, you realize."

"I got that 10 minutes into the train ride when the devil spawn started arguing over what color the sky was."

Mycroft smirked. "Well, thanks to your little plan I got out of all of my meetings for the next 3 days, so you don't have to worry about looking after them."

"Oh, I should probably also mention the train had wifi, so I copied down some sheet music for Victoria, meaning you shouldn't have to worry about her playing  _Three Screaming Popes_ anytime soon."

"How generous of you. She threatened to play it when you got back, didn't she?"

"Yeah. Mind undoing these handcuffs?"

Mycroft sighed and got to work on them. "Molly was seeing if she could find a place to stay for the night, I think she wanted to drag you around to look after the kids while she and I had some time alone. And no, you don't get to negotiate."

Sherlock groaned and stood up. "Fine. But don't blame me if the three of them complain that you and Molly should have been with us."

"What?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Tom said Molly would know all about the catacombs and really wanted to see them with her, Hamish was convinced you'd know the best place for lunch, and Victoria just seemed to want details about your trip here, which if I ever knew, I deleted ages ago. Apparently nothing fun happens if they're left to their own devices."

"That will probably change in a year or so," Mycroft mused. "But that's also around the time that they'll stop trying to go in three completely different directions and I might be able to handle all of them at once."

"Well, right now there are three adults to match them. Even if we just stayed in a group, each of them could get equal attention."

Mycroft thought about it. "Oh why not. It can't be worse than usual."

Sherlock grinned. "So I'm not dead?"

"Not immediately. The second the kids are back home and asleep you should probably release your will."

"Noted," Sherlock said.

Molly came over to them, the triplets on her heels. "All sorted, then? Where should we go first?"

Three voices tried to shout over each other to get their voices heard. Sherlock shouted over all of them, "I have an idea that beats all of you!"

Tom and Hamish looked over to Victoria, who over the course of their trip had quickly become their spokesperson-slash-leader. "What?"

"I happen to know your dad knows a few guys at Disneyland who can get us in and to the front of the rides quickly."

Mycroft shot him a look. Molly smiled. "Well that sounds like fun. What do you guys think?"

Cheers rose from the small group. Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Great. This couldn't  _possibly_  end badly."


	33. Toby Stays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, the next prompt is from ellie (still on ff.net), who said:  
> I'd love it If you wrote one where Molly and Mycroft had a fight about something very significant, but then Mummy Holmes makes Molly reconsider her decision to leave him.  
> I've been debating how to do this for a while, and to be honest, I'm still not entirely sure. But I'll give it my best shot!

Molly was standing in the kitchen with her hand pointed to the door, her eyebrows raised in challenge. "Go on then, choose."

Mycroft was looking lost on the opposite side of the kitchen. "What? Molly, I-"

"No explanations or manipulating this time, Mister. Either you accept Toby living here,  _in my flat,_  or you leave."

Mycroft opened his mouth to say something, but apparently thought better of it. He turned on his heel and went to their room and closed the door. Molly stared after him, wanting to scream at him but not finding anything coherent she could shout at him and not sound like a crazy old cat lady. Toby ran into the kitchen and started purring and rubbing against her ankles. "I hope your happy, Toby, because I may have just lost my boyfriend for you."

Toby stared up at her and mewed.

"All right, I'll feed you, but I'm serious about a thank-you not being amiss."

She put a dish of food on the floor before hearing a knock at the door and remembering with a flash of horror that Mycroft's parents needed somewhere to go for a week while their house was being fumigated and she'd offered them the guest room. Mycroft walked out of their room, took one look at her face, and quietly said, "I can distract them, don't worry."

He opened the door and Molly turned around so it would look like she was busy in the kitchen when they walked in. She went to the cupboards and looked for something to cook for dinner. "I suppose pasta will have to do," she muttered after finding it was about the freshest thing she could find short of looking elsewhere around the house to find Mycroft's secret stash of food he used to get out of his diet but not have Molly question him. But she knew by the fact that Mycroft actually seemed to  _gain_ weight when he swore to his diet that he obviously had a stash.

She started to boil the water before someone came in. A voice said from behind her, "Is Mikey okay?"

Molly turned around to look at Mrs. Holmes' concerned face. "Of course he is. Why wouldn't he be?"

"He looks really shaken. Are you sure he's okay? Is something going on?"

Molly sighed. "I've been really tired lately, and feeling a bit sick in the mornings. He's probably just worried about nothing."

Mrs. Holmes donned an understanding face and a small smile. "I see."

"Um…what do you see?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just the musings of a daft old woman." She started walking out. "It's probably nothing, after all."

Molly followed her out with her eyes before turning back to the now boiling water and poured some pasta noodles into it before searching around for tomato sauce on a whim. Tomatoes usually made her feel slightly queasy, but she felt like tonight she could tolerate the consequences if she only had a little bit. She pulled out a smaller pot to simmer the sauce on and tried not to snitch any from the jar as she was prone to do in fits of weakness. She heard voices outside the kitchen but didn't pay too close attention, busy with the food. When the sauce and the pasta were ready, she quickly made 4 plates and walked them out to where everyone was waiting in the living room 2 at a time. Mycroft took one look at the tomato sauce she had on her pasta and said, "Are you sure that's a good idea? You know how upset your stomach gets when you have tomato on anything…"

"You don't decide my food for me, and besides, it's not even that much." She pointedly ignored the look he was giving her. "It's fine. Really."

After the dinner was done Molly excused herself to do the dishes. She heard hushed tones in the living room and turned the water on faster to drown it out. When she was done washing the dishes and they were stacked up on a towel next to the sink, Mrs. Holmes came back into the kitchen. "Let me help," she said, grabbing the dishtowel Molly was reaching for.

Molly didn't try to protest and just grabbed another towel. They worked in silence for about a minute until Mrs. Holmes said, "Mikey can seem a little unreasonable sometimes, I know, but he just likes being cautious."

"I don't see how wanting to euthanize a cat is cautious when it's been neutered and had all its shots."

Mrs. Holmes smiled. "Oh, he tried to get along with the neighbor's cat when he was a kid and it always scratched him if he got too close. He's never really let the incident go."

Molly smiled faintly at the thought of a young Mycroft getting into a fight with a cat.

"Molly…Have you been…trying for a little one?"

Molly blushed. "I've brought it up once or twice, but Mycroft and I only actually tried once. Why?"

Mrs. Holmes smiled. "I think that's why he wanted that sweet cat to be somewhere else. He didn't want a curious baby being hurt by Toby."

"Well, Toby stays, no matter what."

Mrs. Holmes nodded. "And Mycroft will stay with you whatever it takes. Which is why you'll probably have to reassure him and keep his fears at bay the next few months."

Molly's brows knitted in confusion. "What?"

"I can recognize the early signs of a pregnancy delivering 2 of my own," Mrs. Holmes winked.

Molly nearly dropped the pan she was holding. She mouthed something indecipherable. "How do I tell him?"

"Oh, let him wonder. It's so rare he's caught off guard by something, let him have a good fright once in a while," Mrs. Holmes laughed.

"This should do the trick," Molly giggled. Then she started all-out laughing. "I can already picture his face!" she crowed.

The two women continued to laugh. Mycroft turned his head in their direction. "What do you think is so funny?" he wondered aloud.

"Oh, you never know with women," Mr. Holmes said quietly. "Probably laughing about how a cat nearly overthrew your entire relationship."

Mycroft let out a slow breath. "I hope that's it," he said, chewing on his words. "I'd hate to find they're trying to keep something from us."


	34. I Love You (A Sociopath on Valentine's Day)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of Valentine’s Day coming up, I decided to tackle this prompt I saw on otpprompts on Tumblr:  
> Imagine person A lightly tracing “I love you” over and over again on person B’s back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, “I love you too.” Bonus if that’s the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B.  
> I hope you guys like it and have a happy Valentine’s Day!

Mycroft and Molly were lying in bed, Molly sleeping lightly, Mycroft staring up at the ceiling wide awake. It was midnight, meaning it was technically February 14th, meaning it was technically Valentine’s Day. And he wouldn’t have been nervous if he hadn’t been dating Molly for 4 months now. They had been dating 4 months, and he hadn’t said “I love you” once. They both knew the reason, Mycroft told Molly that during one of Mycroft’s psych evals when he was being tested for clearance he was diagnosed as a borderline sociopath early on in their relationship. Feelings for others didn’t come naturally to him, if they came at all. But he wanted to make sure Molly knew how he felt, even if the feeling was faint and most wouldn’t consider it such a strong love like he did. But the fact that he knew just how hard it was for him to feel emotion, he could tell he was head-over-heels in love. But he didn’t know how to say that to Molly. He turned to look at her back, and tried to practice the words in his head. I love you. I love you. I love you. He started tracing it lightly on her back. Molly shuddered for a second before settling back down again. Mycroft stopped tracing and turned over. It was pointless. He didn’t know how to say it to her. The one time it counted, he couldn’t even fake it. His eyes stung at the worry that Molly would expect something of him and not get it. Then he felt arms wrapping around him and Molly whispering, “I love you too.”

Mycroft turned to look at her beaming face and he shakily smiled. She kissed him on his head. “Coming from you that means way more than anything else you could try to do. Happy Valentine’s, love.”

“Happy Valentine’s,” he whispered, sleep finally coming back to him as he drifted off in Molly’s arms.

The next morning Molly woke up to find Mycroft already up and with a tray of breakfast for them to share in bed. Mycroft grinned, still remembering last night, and Molly smiled back. Both of them knew that this Valentine’s Day would be one they never would forget.


	35. Problems with America

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Guest on ff.net requested  
> Could you make one where Mycroft - ever the lovely father - goes on a fishing trip with his sons, while Molly takes their daughter kajacking (did you really think she'd take her shopping :D) and everything goes greatly wrong? :)  
> This'll be pretty fun. Oh, and to make this clear, I'm assuming that kajacking means kayaking, as A) the letters are close together on the keyboard, making it an easy typo, and B) when looking up kajak, I did get some info on kayaks. Plus, it was either that or carjacking, and this is actually legal.

Molly was sitting on the couch with her legs over Mycroft's lap and her feet shoved under a pillow as she stretched. "You sure this will work out all right?" she asked.

"I don't see why not. And the poor congressman was rather insistent someone take the little cabin off his hands after some journalist exposed his affair."

"Makes me glad I'm not American, anyone can see what you're doing if you know how to go about it," Molly said absentmindedly.

"Not that I'd lose my job for having an affair," Mycroft replied.

"Well, no. You'd be dead before re-elections," Molly smiled.

Mycroft chuckled. "True. And now we have a little cabin in America for vacations. In the middle of nowhere."

Molly grinned. "And where Sherlock can never find us. Should I tell the kids, or should you?"

"Let's not tell them," Mycroft said. "Let's kidnap them in the middle of the night. See if those self-defense classes are paying off."

"They're 12, Myc."

"Exactly."

Molly started giggling as she imagined the looks on their faces to wake up one morning in America with no explanation. "Let's do it."

* * *

Victoria was the one who woke up out of the three kids. She slept through Mycroft packing her bags in the dark, but the second he covered her mouth with his hand she was up and trying to force him into the wall. It took her a second to register who it was. "Dad?! What are you doing?!" she hissed.

"It's supposed to be a surprise," he whispered back. "I'm glad  _you_ at least listen during those self-defense classes. Tom and Hamish didn't do much in the way of anything."

Victoria rolled her eyes. "They prefer wrestling with each other, the idiots. Where exactly are we…" she swayed on her feet and Mycroft caught her just as she dropped to the floor from the small sedative he gave her.

"It's supposed to be a surprise," he whispered in her ear. "You'll see in the morning."

* * *

"DAD! HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU, STOP DRUGGING ME!" Victoria yelled from the top of the stairs.

"And then there were two," Mycroft muttered to Molly in the kitchen.

Victoria stormed in, fuming. "Seriously, why did you have to drug me for 7 and a half hours?!"

"Technically speaking, it's 9 ½. Closer to 10."

"But…the clock says that it's just about 10:30…"

"…On the Eastern Coast of America," Mycroft said, letting the words sink in.

Victoria's eyes widened. "No. Way."

"Yes way," Molly said. "We're in North Carolina. Feels like the middle of nowhere, closest house next to this one is probably 10 or 20 miles out. Middle of nowhere with a lake to ourselves."

"Do Tom and Hamish know?"

"They're still out cold," Mycroft said. "I'll wait for them to get up if you two want to go out and do something."

Molly nodded and Victoria grinned. "Unbelievable. We're on vacation in America. How did this happen?!"

"A congressman couldn't keep what was happening in his pants to himself," Mycroft remarked as he skillfully moved just out of reach of Molly's elbow.

Victoria grinned. "Thank goodness for American Idiots," she said as she ran off, not waiting for anyone to follow.

Molly looked over at Mycroft. "I think I'll see if that old kayak floats. Try not to kill the boys when they wake up."

* * *

Molly and Victoria were out in the kayak when they heard the soft grumble of a motor and saw Tom and Hamish fighting over who got which fishing rod a ways away. Victoria laughed. "Those two can be so dense," she said.

Molly sighed. "But you don't get to choose your family."

Victoria shrugged. "True. I wonder what they're doing?"

* * *

As it happens, the three male Holmes's in question were trying very, very hard not to commit murder on each other. Tom and Hamish were arguing over an old fishing rod they'd found and who should get to cast it, and Mycroft was just trying with all of his strength not to turn sharply and throw both of them off the boat. He cut off the motor. "Stop fighting!" he yelled.

Tom and Hamish shut up. Mycroft pulled out 3 new rods. "These came with the deal," he said. "No one has to use that old one."

Tom and Hamish each grabbed a rod and Mycroft showed them how to tie a lure on the end. However, when it came time to cast, Tom's lure caught onto Hamish's pants and tore out a big chunk right over where you could see Hamish's fluorescent light blue underwear. Hamish felt for his jeans and found none, blushing and pushing Tom over the edge of the boat. "Watch where you're casting!"

Tom popped up out of the water with an undignified screech. "Don't push people into the water when they're not ready, jerk!" and with that, he promptly  _pulled_ Hamish in with him.

"Boys, please, not today…" Mycroft started, before realizing that Hamish was having some problems staying afloat, and Tom just kept splashing him with more and more water. "Tom. Tom! Tom, stop it!"

He jumped in with them and forcibly pulled Tom away, grabbing Hamish and helping him up over the side of the boat where he promptly started coughing up water. Mycroft turned to Tom and pulled him back on the boat too, making sure he stayed away from Hamish. As he was driving the boat back to the dock, he saw Molly and Victoria looking over their way. He gave them a little wave and continued driving.

"What do you think happened?" Victoria asked.

"I don't know, but we should probably head back…"

"…Mum?"

"I'll be fine, just a little overheated. Did you bring any water out with us?"

"No, I thought you would!"

"Okay, okay. I think I can make it back without something to drink."

They started paddling back and about halfway through Molly's breathing got really ragged and she stopped rowing.

"…Mum? You okay?"

"I think I might have a bit of heat exhaustion, my head's killing me and I feel like I'm about to die of thirst. Can you…can you get us back to the dock by yourself?"

"Yeah, I think I can," Victoria started rowing as hard and as fast as she could with Molly trying to lie down as much as possible in the cramped space.

When they came up to the dock, Mycroft rushed over. "Victoria, can you wake Mum up, I need her help with Hamish."

"Mum is pretty close to suffering from heat stroke, I think she has a few things on her plate at the moment."

Mycroft muttered a few choice swear words under his breath and Victoria pretended she couldn't hear. "Molly? Molly, sweetheart, are you okay?"

"Ugh…sick," she muttered. "Need to get inside, cool off and get plenty of fluid. …What's wrong with Hamish?"

"Nothing I can't deal with on my own," Mycroft lied. "Let's get inside, I think there's actually built-in air-conditioning, I can turn down the thermostat."

When all three of them were inside and Molly was dozing on top of the bed in the master bedroom with a cold compress on her head and a half-frozen bottle of water, Victoria looked at her dad and asked, "What's wrong with Hamish?"

"Oh, Tom pulled him under the water in the lake and he couldn't properly surface again."

"So, basically, he almost drowned and now wants vengeance."

"…Basically."

"We're gonna need another vacation after this vacation, Dad."

"Any chance I could sell you on the idea that this is to make the rest of the year seem like a vacation?"

"Not a chance. Next time, we should come here in the spring or the fall when it's cooler. It'd be about 21 degrees and Mum wouldn't pass out from heat exposure."

"Yeah, that's probably true. Any chance you have advice for dealing with Tom and Hamish?"

"Put them in a room together so both of them know what they're punishment is and won't go all Batman-vigilante on each other."

Mycroft sighed. "Where would I be without you and your Mum?"

"Presumably nowhere near as stressed out about problems like this."

"Shut up," he said half-heartedly. "You should probably take it slow too, just in case."

"I was planning on reading outside for a bit with some ice-cold water to work on a bit of a tan, make my friends jealous when I get back."

"Have fun, and if you feel even the least bit faint, come back inside."

"Got it, Dad, I'm not made of glass."

"I just worry, you know that."

Victoria nodded. "But I'm not the one with the problems, America itself is. I know when to give it a break and come back inside."

"All right…"

"Good luck not dying!" she said with false cheeriness as she ran back outside.


	36. Color-Blind Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Felt like doing a soulmate AU today, lucky you guys! Have some fluff!

Molly glanced around the grey of the morgue, and sighed. Another day, another set of bodies, another hopeless hope that today she might be able to see the sky again. She was one of the lower spectrum of colors, getting to see fiery reds and oranges, and crisp yellows, and rich browns, but she wished every day that she could have seen the higher spectrum, if only to see the brightest blues of the sky that she loved as a kid. With every day that passed, the memories of her blue skies faded and she worried that she’d never find her soulmate, and that she’d never get to see everything in full color again.

The door to the morgue opened and Molly looked up hopefully, but saw it was Sherlock. She looked back down at her work. The first time she saw him, she got the barest hint of the upper spectrum since she lost it at age 13, but she hadn’t seen it after that first time, she wasn’t his soul mate, and he wasn’t hers. “Ah, Molly,” Sherlock said. “Do you have any spare eyeballs? I need them for an experiment.”

Molly looked up and smiled faintly. “Er, sure, probably.” She looked around. “Where’s John?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “At his sister’s. Honestly, I don’t understand why he keeps trying to get her clean. She’s quite clearly tried to be sober over 30 times, and failed every one…”

Molly shifted as he trailed off, and went to find his eyeballs. Sherlock and John were probably one of the strangest set of soulmates she’d seen in a long time. They were completely platonic, never showed any romantic interest, and yet the second they saw each other their worlds lit up with color like fireworks, according to various accounts of what had happened in that room when they first met. Every time they came here her heart ached, a dull reminder of her yet to be found significant other. When she found a body that had been donated to science, she put the eyeballs in a jar and handed them to Sherlock. “Here you go,” she said as he was already dashing out the door.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. _Stay strong, Molly. Even if you haven’t found your soulmate, you still have plenty of people who care about you._ She decided a little coffee might perk her up, and walked towards the door, not looking at where she was going, and collided straight into another person. Internally she cringed and looked up, nearly gasping as she saw the alert sky blue eyes looking back down at her. “A-ah! S-sorry, I was just about to get a coffee, can I help you?”

The man looked down at her, slightly bemused. She wondered if he had started seeing color when she had quite literally ran into him, and what was going through his head at the moment. “Has Sherlock been here yet today?” he asked.

“E-er…Yeah, he left a minute ago, why…?” but the man was already leaving. “Oh, um, never mind…I’ll just…be here…” she took a deep breath. Was this just another fleeting thing like with Sherlock? It had to be, yet as she glanced around as she went to get her coffee, the colors weren’t fading, and she could see that clear blue sky she had so often dreamed about.

The next day, Sherlock came in again, and she asked about the man yesterday.

“Oh, you mean Mycroft? Yeah, he’s been trying to get me to take a case for weeks now, but I’ve told him over and over I’m not interested.”

Molly sat on a swivel chair as Sherlock ran some tests, trying to get more information without appearing too eager. “But…who is he? What’s he like?”

Sherlock snorted. “Like? He’s the most dangerous man you will ever meet. Honestly, why do you care?”

Molly sighed. “I don’t know. He just seemed…I don’t know,” she repeated.

Sherlock dismissed her questions silently and Molly sighed, looking down to her shoes. She pulled up one pant leg, getting a look at her rainbow socks, which were now fully visible to her eyes. She wasn’t going to get any more information from Sherlock, maybe someone else would be able to help her.

“Mycroft? Why would you want to know about him?!” John asked over the phone.

Molly sighed, trying to find a viable excuse. “I ran into him yesterday, quite literally. He was asking about Sherlock, and I just wanted to make sure he was okay…”

“Oh, yeah. Mycroft’s Sherlock’s brother. Very odd, though, I wouldn’t go around looking for him, if I were you. He’s mental.”

Molly felt her heart leap up to her throat and then drop to the pit of her stomach within 5 seconds of each other. “Well, it’s a relief knowing Sherlock isn’t being stalked. Any more than usual, anyway. Thanks, John.” She hung up.

At this point, Molly felt like crying. She was so close to finding her soulmate, but she couldn’t find him without being questioned by all her closest friends. And she still had no clue whether or not Mycroft had _her_ for a soulmate, on top of it all. She walked back into the lab and Sherlock glanced up at her. “Boyfriend troubles, Molly?”

Molly started, and shook her head. “No…as a matter of fact, I found my soulmate yesterday.”

Sherlock snapped his head up and over to her.

“Problem is, I don’t know how to find him again, I saw him for maybe 10 seconds in passing as I was leaving the morgue, and…” Molly trailed off. “Why am I even bothering to tell you this, anyway? It’s not like you’d care.”

She turned and walked out, wrapping her arms around herself and letting a few tears fall down her cheeks. “I’m stupid,” she muttered to herself. “Why do I keep trying, this is just stupid!”

And for the second time in as many days, she ran into Mycroft Holmes…literally. She looked up at him and her cheeks turned bright red. “Hello again,” she muttered weakly.

He looked down at her with something like concern, but at the same time couldn’t quite be called concern. “Are you all right?” he asked.

She grimaced and nodded. “Yeah, just…just…have a lot going on lately,” she finished lamely.

She was about to leave when she heard his voice again. “Er, did you…I mean, yesterday, were you the one who ran into me on your way out of the morgue?”

Molly felt her cheeks heat up further, if that was at all possible. “Yeah, that was me. I’m…sorry about that.”

“Did you…how do I put this…I sort of started seeing full color again after you ran into me yesterday and I just was wondering if the same thing happened to you because you looked shocked but running face first into _anyone_ would be a shock I imagine and wow I’m rambling aren’t I, I haven’t done that in years, I guess it’s just a testament to how nervous I am, this is completely outside my comfort zone, but I need to know…are you colorblind?”

Molly looked at him and started laughing through her tears, shaking her head. “N-no, I’m not colorblind. I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again, to be honest! I’m so relieved!”

Mycroft gave a small smile and scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I mean you work here, it’s not hard for me to find you…”

Molly laughed. “Yeah, I guess. Er, do you want to get a coffee? Sometime, maybe?”

Mycroft walked over to her and pulled out a business card, writing something on the back. “My work number is on the front, personal on the back. Call me?”

Molly nodded and Mycroft walked away, not sticking around long enough for Sherlock to come out of the lab to interrogate Molly. “Molly! Who _exactly_ showed you color yesterday?”

“Hm? Just some guy. He just found me again, I got his number. I might call him sometime.”

Sherlock looked at her carefully. “Was it my brother?”

Molly feigned innocence. “You have a brother?”

Sherlock gave her a look, and muttered something under his breath as he walked back to the lab. Molly split into a wide grin. Looks like she’d get to see a lot more of her blue skies, now. She couldn’t wait to make more memories under them.


	37. True Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an ancient OTP Prompts, but I saw it in my Ideas Doc and since I was in the mood for some angst, I thought I’d go for it.
> 
> Imagine that person A from your OTP is gone. Person B looks at photos they had together, but they never liked being photographed. On every one of those pictures person A is smiling while person B looks annoyed and now they deeply regret it.
> 
> Whenever I imagined this, I changed it a bit so the person who was gone didn’t liked being photographed. I always imagined Mycroft didn’t like having his picture taken, but my mind took a twisted turn today. So it’s worse than it usually was.  
> Molly’s gone. =)

Mycroft stared at the faded picture with a mix of nostalgia and regret. Molly was walking to her job at St. Bart’s, and he’d taken a screenshot of her on CCTV. It was one of the few pictures he had that showed how Molly truly was—she never allowed anyone to take her picture if she could help it, and would get out of almost any situation where a picture was taken. During their wedding, her veil was conveniently blown into her face multiple times from the wind, and the photographer gave up. Whenever Mycroft took a picture of her, she always looked extremely annoyed, sticking her tongue out at the lens. When they were together, Mycroft would be smiling at the camera and Molly would be staring at the floor with a scowl, which he always tried to convince her was cute, but she never believed. All in all, he had 5 pictures which she didn’t know had been taken, and he never admitted to her he had. One was the CCTV footage, another was during their first dance as a married couple. The third was when she and Mycroft had been babysitting Hamish when John and Mary were in a pinch and couldn’t find anyone to babysit, and Sherlock left Hamish with a note pinned to his shirt that said _I’m abandoned, please help,_ on their doorstep, and the fourth was when Mycroft had called out for Molly while she was fixing her hair for the morning, and she had turned halfway to the camera, a shy smile on her face right before the indignant shout and shove she gave him when she saw the camera and insisted he deleted it. He opened his phone to look at the fifth. It was enclosed in a text that said,

_Tick tock,_

_Goes the clock,_

_The wind blows and_

_She freezes,_

 

_Tick tock,_

_Goes the clock,_

_Molly Hooper_

_Died from the breezes_

_Looks like you’ve let your heart get to you, Iceman. -JM_

Attached was a picture of Molly lying on the ground, the picture of a sleeping angel, except for the blue lips and fingers. Mycroft’s eyes blurred with tears as he closed the text. He couldn’t bear to delete it, he couldn’t bear to let it stay.

It was his last reminder of Molly.

But it was also a reminder of how he had let her freeze to death by not being fast enough to find her.


	38. Ready

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right. Here I am, back with more fluff for you guys, since TheSaphireSky on ff said:  
> I may be a bit mad at you for [the last chapter]. I demand a sickeningly fluffy chapter to make up for this! :)  
> And once again I’m choosing to use an OTP Prompts prompt. Now, there were several fluff ideas in my ideas doc (one involving hot chocolate in the mountains) but I wanted to save that for another time, so I decided on this one:  
> Imagine person A’s reaction to waking up in the middle of the night and hearing person B quietly crying next to them in bed.  
> Now, before you all burn me at the stake, will you just read it? Set in the same universe as…hm…how about Let it Go, Mycroft! ? I feel like adding to that universe.

Mycroft woke up at 2 in the morning that fateful day. It wasn’t anything unusual for him, he had to work odd hours throughout the week. No, what was unusual was _why_ he’d been woken up. Molly was lying next to him, back turned away, shaking slightly from quiet sobs, 9 months pregnant. Thinking it was just another case of raging hormones Mycroft would have to deal with, he gently put his hand on Molly’s back and said quietly, “Is something wrong, Molly?”

To his shock when Molly turned to face him there was a huge wet stain on her pants. “I’m not ready,” Molly whispered. “I’m not, I’m not ready!”

Mycroft took a deep breath. “Molly, your water broke. Whether or not you’re ready, our baby certainly is.”

Molly shook her head. “I-I can’t do it.”

Mycroft inwardly grimaced. Molly had warned him about what she’d seen pregnant women in labor do, but he never expected this would happen. “Well, okay. Okay. We should probably at least get you changed, though, and it would make me feel better if we went to the hospital, just to be safe.”

Molly scowled at him. “You’re trying to trick me! Well I’m telling you right now, it won’t work! I refuse to be tricked!”

“Tricked or not, I’m taking you to the hospital, Molly Hooper Holmes. You’re in labor, meaning you can’t back out on having the baby now.”

Molly sobbed.

“Why can’t you do it?”

Molly looked down at her hands. “What if I screw up being a mother?”

Mycroft couldn’t help it. He laughed. Molly smacked him and he got up out of bed to give Molly a hand to sit up. “You’re not going to screw up being a mother, Molly.”

“How can you know?” Molly said, accepting his hand.

Mycroft smiled. “You’ve taught me the importance of having someone who loves you being there when you need them, you’re an amazing cook whether you know it or not, you’ve gotten Sherlock to apologize not once but twice, and probably more times that I don’t know about.” They were walking out the door to Mycroft’s car. “You’ve stitched me up more times than even Anthea has, you’ll never think twice about sticking up for someone you love, you’re funny, and sweet, but never naïve. You’ll always have the perfect advice when someone asks you for it.” They were in the car and driving to the hospital. “Most importantly, you’re capable of loving someone who had scoffed at the idea for years, is stubborn, thick, and has never been good at displaying affection. And you’ve taught me that I was wrong in the best possible way you could.” Mycroft grabbed Molly’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Our child could be blind, have only one leg, it could have two heads and green scales and bat wings, and you would still love it and support it. You will be the best mother a child could ever ask for, because you’ll always be there to care for them, no matter what. And that’s what’s most important about being a mother.”

Molly was sobbing for an entirely different reason now.

“Ready?” Mycroft asked.

“Ready,” Molly said.

* * *

It was 9 in the evening when their baby girl was born. “A girl,” Molly breathed, laughing. “Looks like you’re going to be outnumbered, love.”

Mycroft smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his daughter’s ear. “What should we name her?” he asked.

“How about Samantha? I’ve always liked the name Samantha.”

“Would Samantha Cherie Holmes be all right?”

Molly smiled and nodded. “It sounds perfect.”

Samantha started fussing and Molly calmed her down quickly.

“I told you that you were ready,” Mycroft said.

And he was right.


	39. You Can't

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm getting my angst on again, thanks to Bellarsam Chrisjulittle on FF:
> 
> Molly and Mycroft are newly married, and Molly suffers a miscarriage. However, Mycroft is abroad for work, probably preventing WWIII, Molly decides not to bother him. In her grief, she tries to shield him, not distract him, because she knows how his work takes priority. Thankfully, Mycroft does find out (probably Anthea or even Sherlock) and comes home immediately. Molly wakes up in bed to him beside her, he reminds her that his wife is his top priority, and they grieve together but resolve to keep trying and move forward.
> 
> As some of you probably already know, I either write tooth-rotting fluff or heart-wrenching angst most of the time. You have been warned.

When Molly woke up in the middle of the night in extreme pain, she didn't know what to make of it. She was 7 months into her pregnancy, yet she felt the familiar contractions of an early labor starting up. She wasn't sure what to think. She barely remembered the first time she lost a child, having repressed the memories, but she knew there was a lot of pain, a lot of tears, and the last time this had happened, her husband of only 9 months had died. And that pain was coming again.

The first rational thought to enter her head was that she hoped Mycroft did not suffer the same fate.

The second was that Mycroft was out of the country, trying to come to a deal between the States and Iran to prevent World War 3.

The third was that is she was indeed going into labor, there was no way she would be able to drive herself to the hospital. She dialed 999 quickly and explained the situation, an ambulance coming to get her within 8 minutes and getting her to the maternity ward. The next bit was a blur, but she remembered that the doctors couldn't stop the labor, and that when her baby came out, there was no crying, no noise at all. But exhaustion took her over and she fell asleep before she could ask what had happened to her child.

* * *

When Molly came to in the afternoon, she immediately hit the call button and a nurse came in. "What happened to my baby?" she asked, not even letting the nurse ask what was wrong.

"The doctor will be in shortly," the nurse assured.

Molly swallowed. "Was it a boy or a girl?" she asked quietly, knowing immediately from the nurse's tone she had a still birth.

"A boy," the nurse murmured. "I'm so sorry, Ms. Hooper."

Molly sighed but nodded. "Oh, Mycroft would have been so happy…" she froze. "Oh my gosh, Mycroft. C-can I use the phone?"

The nurse nodded. "Just dial 9 before you call anyone, and then 1 for anything long-distance."

Molly dialed Mycroft's phone number and waited for him to pick up. After the third ring she heard, "Sherlock, if you got yourself into another shooting, I swear there is nothing you can do to stop me from telling Mummy. And I'm a bit busy, since you clearly deleted my message and called me despite my telling you not to."

Molly bit her lip. "It's not Sherlock, honey."

She heard a door slam before Mycroft said. "Molly?! What are you doing in hospital?! Is something wrong with the baby?"

Molly took a deep breath. Technically, the baby was better than he had ever been, since he would never need anything or hurt, ever. "The baby's fine. But I knew you'd want to know what happened before you came back to a possible empty flat, so…"

Mycroft took a deep breath. "You're right. I'm glad you called. And you're okay?"

Molly smiled. "Yeah, I'm fine, the baby's fine, everything's fine on my end. Go back to stopping World War 3, I love you."

Mycroft gave her a quick  _I love you too_ before hanging up. Molly put the phone back on the side table before sighing and covering her eyes. Mycroft didn't need to know now; she could probably keep up the ruse a few weeks before he'd get suspicious. She didn't have to tell him, not yet. The nurse came over and put a hand on her shoulder. "He should know," he said quietly.

"Just not yet," Molly choked out. "Not yet."

* * *

Molly crawled into bed after a long day at work. It was the day after she left the hospital, and she had to deal with Sherlock being his obnoxious self and deducing her lack of sleep had something to do with her pregnancy, at which point she ran out in tears and didn't come back until she was sure he had left. Now all she wanted to do was sleep. Mycroft was due back tomorrow and she wanted to have some semblance of togetherness when he came back. She closed her eyes and let herself drift off…except there was a hand against the small of her back. She opened her eyes and saw Mycroft looking at her on the other side of the bed. The clock read midnight. "You should be in your meeting," she murmured.

"Screw the meeting. You need me more than the rest of the world does right now."

Molly started to cry when he rubbed circles on her back. "Wh-who told you?"

"Sherlock. Today, immediately after he realized why you got so upset in front of him. You should have slapped him."

Molly laughed through her tears. "I was a bit preoccupied."

Mycroft sighed. "We can always try again, Molls. There's always next time. Of course I'm upset, but I'm glad you're all right."

Molly sniffed. "And our little boy is in heaven now, so he's all right."

Mycroft nodded. "Is there anything you need?"

Molly wrapped her arms close around herself. "Hold me," she whimpered.

Mycroft did without complaint. They both fell asleep crying, but knew that eventually, all would return to how it was, life would go on, and they would be happy again.


	40. Molly and Mycroft at Alton Towers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my gosh I found the perfect OTP Prompt!!!  
> Imagine your OTP on a huge roller coaster. Person A is absolutely terrified and Person B thinks it’s awesome.  
> I couldn’t not write this, guys, the potential is awesome! Enjoy!

“Mycroft, really?” Molly stared at him and rolled her eyes. “It’s a roller coaster, honestly, how bad can it be?”

Molly and Mycroft were standing in line for one of the world’s craziest roller coasters, The Smiler, with 14 loops that Molly was sure would get a scream out of Mycroft to win that bet against Sherlock. Mycroft, however, did not like the thought of riding what he so poetically called a “metal death trap” and was trying to weasel his way out of riding. “I don’t want to ride it.”

“Mycroft, you are riding it. We’ve already gotten in line, we’re about 5 minutes away from being at the front, you can’t back out of this now! Woman up!”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed. “Did Sherlock put you up to this?”

“He bet me 50 quid that I couldn’t get you to scream, so in a roundabout way yes. Now hush, we’re next in line.”

Mycroft swallowed his uncertainty as he and Molly got on in the middle of the coaster. As soon as everyone was on board and they left the platform, they experienced a quick drop that had everyone screaming, especially Molly and Mycroft, but for two different reasons. Mycroft had an idiotic grin on his face and was laughing at the preview into the ride, but Molly was deathly pale and holding onto her seat with an iron grip. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” Molly muttered.

“Are you kidding?! This is way better than I thought it would be!” Mycroft said, grinning at her.

The rest of the ride was a blur for both of them, and when they got off the ride, Molly couldn’t make it more than a few steps before puking into a trash can and sitting down against it. Mycroft sat down next to her. “Want to go again?” he asked with a cheeky grin.

“No! No, never again!”

Mycroft expected something along these lines, but he still felt disappointed. “…Can I go again without you?”

Molly sighed. “Go nuts.”

Mycroft grinned and bounded to the end of the line again. Molly pulled out her phone and texted Sherlock. _You never told me Mycroft was a rollercoaster fanatic. –M xx_

_Hahahaha! Which one did you take him on? –SH_

_The Smiler. What else? –M xx_

She didn’t get a reply, but she could imagine Sherlock snickering at her as if he were right next to her. She sent him a picture of Mycroft waiting in line and this time all she got was a bunch of gibberish from Sherlock. _asdfghjkl!!!_

Molly rolled her eyes and put her phone away. She stood up and promptly heaved into the trashcan again. Today was going to be a long day.


	41. It's Not Easy Being Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this next one is for Nerdy Beth (sorry for taking so long and for this sort of sucking, by the way, exams happened and I got caught in a whirlwind of stress) who requested:
> 
> Hey, would you do a Mollcroft story is about Mycroft being jealous or   
> Molly in labour and Mycroft freaking out. Thanks.
> 
> So, I’m saving the freaking out as possible inspiration for another day, and using Mycroft being jealous. Enjoy!

Mycroft clenched his jaw as he waited for Molly to come out of St. Bart’s for their date that night. He was trying to be calm, he really was, but Sherlock had gone in 2 hours ago to talk to Molly about something according to CCTV and he hadn’t left yet. He wasn’t jealous, that was ridiculous, he wasn’t the jealous type. But Sherlock being in there this long was making his blood boil, and he hadn’t actually known what Sherlock was up to until he pulled up 10 minutes ago and was wondering why Molly wasn’t outside since her shift was done.

The thought crept into his head that maybe Sherlock was trying to swoop in on his territory, and Mycroft twisted his newly acquired wedding ring so hard it made a dent in his finger. He could see Sherlock leaning in close to Molly, tilting her chin up, and then slowly leaning down and closing his eyes and kissing her. Naturally, she wouldn’t resist him, or at least not that hard, because she always had a crush on him, and then one thing would lead to another and…

Mycroft jumped out of the car and quickly made his way inside before what he was imagining could actually take place. He ran through the doors to the morgue, causing them to slam into the wall and for everyone in the room to look up at him. Though to his surprise, Sherlock wasn’t actually in there. Molly and John were in a conversation right before he came in, most likely _about_ Sherlock if the way they jumped was any indication. Molly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Hi, love,” she smiled nervously. “Is something wrong?”

He didn’t pay attention to her question, just looked her over from head to toe to see what exactly she was doing. Nothing rang any alarm bells. “Is Sherlock holding you up again?”

Molly bit her lip. “Er, yeah, he just ran out. I’m surprised you didn’t see him in the hallway.”

Mycroft nodded. “Coming then? Unless Dr. Watson chooses to hold you back any longer…?”

Sensing the danger in the air, John shook his head. “No, I was just leaving. Talk to you later, Molly.”

John scurried out and Molly gave Mycroft a look. “What was that for? You almost sounded like you were marking your territory.”

Mycroft turned red. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Molly laughed. “The way you’re turning red means you do. I never took you for the jealous type.”

“I’m not,” he grumbled.

“It’s not easy being green, I guess,” Molly teased.

“Shut up.”


	42. Baby Food, Mycroft. Emphasis on BABY

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...I’m back, sadly with files inaccessible on a USB drive, I’ve had to start a different prompt from scratch. Hopefully I can eventually recover my Mollcroft Files, but right now the only ones I have are the ones on the Internet. So, I’m doing some fluff with Charlotte as a picker-upper. Same universe as Learning to Ride a Bike, First Day of School, etc. set sometime after Love is Giving Up the Last Piece of Cake.
> 
> Prompt from OTPPrompts on Tumblr:  
> Imagine Person A of your OTP is trying to get their baby to eat some type of baby food. Said baby won’t until Person A ends up trying the food themselves, while Person B laughs sympathetically in the background.

“Charlotte, _please_ be a good girl for Daddy and at least try it,” Mycroft pleaded.

Charlotte stared at him, her arms crossed. “No.”

Molly laughed in the background and Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I would ask Mummy to help, but she finds this too funny to be much help.”

“Sorry, love, but really, you have to admit it’s sort of funny,” Molly laughed.

Mycroft sighed. “It’s lasagna, Char. You ate half of mine the other night. You _like_ lasagna. This is just in smaller bites to help you swallow it. I guarantee you’ll like it.”

Charlotte just raised her eyebrows like Mycroft did whenever he didn’t believe something. Molly was doubled over in hysteria. “She’s a spitting image of you!” Molly gasped.

“Okay, Charlotte. What will it take for you to eat some of this?” Mycroft begged.

“You eat.” Charlotte grinned. “You eat fi’st.”

Mycroft sighed. “Charlotte, this is for _you_. Grown-ups don’t eat baby food.”

Charlotte scowled. “You eat fi’st!” she insisted.

Mycroft winced. Molly gave him a look. “You’re not seriously going to try it? It’s baby food, Mycroft. Emphasis on _baby_.”

“What choice do I have?” he mouthed.

Molly tried her best not to grin and horribly failed. “That’s one tough negotiator we’re raising,” was all she offered in way of sympathy.

Mycroft lifted the spoon, suppressed a shudder, and forced himself to swallow the mush. “See, Char? It’s fine. Now you eat it.”

Charlotte grinned triumphantly and opened her mouth for a bite. As Mycroft fed her, Molly continued laughing. “I guess I have 2 babies in the house, then.”

“Shut up,” Mycroft grumbled.

Charlotte laughed gleefully.


	43. See You Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am such a terrible human being. But now I feel a little better, at least. Don’t read if you have triggers surrounding car accidents, blood, death, hospitals, etc.
> 
> Prompt: Person A of your OTP is in a terrible accident. When they come to and realize the severity of their injuries, they use their last minutes of life to call Person B. It’s up to you whether or not Person A lets on to the fact that they are dying.

Pain. That was the first thing Mycroft felt in the situation. He opened his eyes and saw the blurry police lights, and someone crouched next to him on the outside of the car. Just a teenager. Really, he couldn’t be older than 20. He just kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

Mycroft tried to move from his position on the concrete and hissed when he realized that something was impaled in his side. A piece of the stick shift of his car. There was a lot of blood in it, and he knew instinctively he didn’t have a lot of time left. He turned to the kid. “Hey, it’s not your fault,” he said. The road’s were still soaked from the day's rain, of course the brakes on both cars would have trouble. “There’s no way you could have helped it. Can-can you do me a favor?”

The boy looked at Mycroft and nodded.

“Can you find my phone, and call Molly for me?”

The boy nodded and grabbed the phone from Mycroft’s pocket, cracked but still operational, and called the first name in Mycroft’s contacts, handing it to Mycroft. Mycroft smiled when he heard Molly on the other end, cheerful as ever. “Hey, love, is something wrong?”

Mycroft felt his stomach drop. “No...no, everything’s okay, love. I just wanted to say I might be a little late tonight, there was an accident, and I’m stuck in traffic.”

“Okay, nothing to worry about. I’ll save you some dinner.”

“You don’t have to, I had a late lunch today with a coworker, and I know how you love that instant lasagna you make so I can shudder at your culinary skills.”

Molly laughed. “Okay. I love you. I have a surprise for you when you get back.”

Mycroft heaved a sigh. If only he could be there to hear it. “Tell me now, please? Something to cheer me up?”

“Well, my period’s been late for 5 weeks now.”

Mycroft laughed. “Are you sure? We’re really...you’re pregnant?”

The boy next to him gasped.

Molly laughed. “I’m sure.”

“I’m not going to be a good father, Molly.”

Molly scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. You might not always be around, but you’ll make an excellent father.”

Mycroft sighed and closed his eyes. “I love you. Both of you. I’ll see you soon, yeah?”

“Of course, love. I love you too.”

Mycroft ended the call and opened his eyes again to see the boy next to him sobbing. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish...I wish...why couldn’t it be me lying there instead of you?”

“Because I’m stupid enough to drive a stick shift in this day and age,” Mycroft sighed. “It’s not your fault. The rain made your tires lock up when you slammed the brakes. You couldn’t have done anything to stop it. You would have skidded no matter the pressure you put on the pedal.” Mycroft coughed and a trickle of blood ran down his chin. “Just...don’t let this...change you. Okay? You have your whole life ahead of you. Most of mine is behind me. Everything except for a few minutes at most, I estimate.”

The boy grabbed Mycroft by the shoulders. “Shut up. Just shut up! You’ll pull through. An ambulance can’t be more than a minute away. You’ll...you’ll be fine! You have to be fine!”

Mycroft shook his head. “I have...massive internal bleeding, kid. There’s not much the EMTs will be able to do. Now, just shut up, will you? I’m tired.”

The boy shook his head. “No! Did you hear your girl? She’s pregnant with your kid! You can’t just die! Not after that! That’s not fair on her!”

A fireman came over along with several paramedics and tried to push the boy away. “Son, we need you back up.”

“Oh, let him stay,” Mycroft sighed. “I don’t have much time left anyway.”

The fireman didn’t listen to him and forced him out of the car, the EMTs moving him to a stretcher, asking him what blood type he was, and getting plasma from the ambulance. Mycroft blinked and he was in the ambulance, rushing to the nearest hospital. He blinked again and he was in a surgery room, doctors all around him, someone yelling he was coming to and to bring some anaesthetic so the poor man wouldn’t have to feel them cauterizing several veins and arteries, removing one of his kidneys, and stitching him back together. He blinked again and he was hooked up to several different machines, receiving a blood transfusion, and he could hear Molly crying somewhere he couldn’t see her.

The next time he opened his eyes, Molly was sitting next to him with a visible bump under her shirt. “Crap. I slept a while...didn’t I?” he rasped.

Molly gasped when she heard him and laughed, tears pricking at her eyes. “You’re awake!” she whispered. “The doctors thought you’d never wake up,” she cried. “They said you were dead, outside life support!”

“Well then I’m very glad you didn’t pull the plug on me,” he smiled. “How’s the kid who was driving that night?”

Molly gave him a look. “You nearly died, and you’re worried about a kid you barely know?”

“He looked like he’d never forgive himself,” Mycroft shrugged. “He should know that I lived, somehow.”

“He comes here every Friday after Uni,” she said. “He hasn’t done anything stupid, thankfully, but he doesn’t forgive himself, either.”

“We’ll need to fix that,” Mycroft said.

“I am very, very cross with you, mister!” Molly shouted out of nowhere. “How could you tell me you were fine when you nearly died?! I almost never got to tell you that you were a father! How could you do that to me?!” she sobbed.

Mycroft winced. “I...I thought I was going to die, Moll. I didn’t want you to worry. I...just...I wanted to hear your happy voice one last time.”

Molly blinked back her tears and lifted Mycroft up so she could hug him properly. “Sherlock’s been worried sick,” she murmured.

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Mycroft smirked.

Molly whacked him lightly on the head. “You two care for each other more than you’d ever admit. Don’t act like you’re sociopaths who never meant anything to each other.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Mycroft murmured, suddenly hit with exhaustion like a wave in the ocean he thought he could jump over but pushed him into the sand on the shore.

“Rest,” Molly ordered. “It’s not like it’ll take you another 2 months to wake up.”

Mycroft laughed. “I might, just to spite you.”

Molly shoves him on the bed disgustedly. “I’d never forgive you. And you’d miss out on finding out whether or not we’re having a girl or a boy.”

Mycroft looked up at her and sighed. “Okay. I’ll try to be up in a few hours.”

Molly kissed him. “See you soon,” she murmured.

Mycroft hummed and drifted off to sleep.


	44. MerMolly and the Captain

“Come on, Captain, the water’s fine!” Molly giggled, flicking some water at Mycroft with her tail.

Mycroft smiled and wiped the water from his face. “If I get in, what happens if I can’t get back out? I’ll drown.”

Molly pouted. “I can keep you afloat. Though you could just grow gills, couldn’t you? All mermaids get them when humans get their first set of teeth.”

“It doesn’t work like that, dear,” Mycroft laughed. “And besides, going by the war between our races, I take it I wouldn’t be well received in your world.”

“Oh, love, I’m growing tired of having to follow you around for stolen kisses. Come in the water with me, please?” she asked.

Mycroft rolled up his sleeves and sat on the rail of his ship. “What would happen if I do? Your eyes speak of mischief.”

Molly smirked and flicked him with more water. “My kisses did more than make your lips taste of salt, didn’t they?”

Mycroft gave her a look. “They gave me a love for fair creatures such as yourself, but I haven’t felt much different aside from that.”

Molly flicked him with more water in frustration and he growled at her. “Why do you insist on drenching me, lass?! If anyone of my crew find out about us, they’ll report me to Her Majesty without a second thought! I couldn’t bear standing away from you!”

“Oh, look at your hand, you brute!” Molly called, exasperated.

Mycroft did and frowned when he saw the webbing fit in between his fingers that wasn’t there before. “What is this? Witchcraft?” he asked.

Molly laughed genuinely. “Silly! My kisses, as with all mermaids, can change a mortal! How do you think you swear you can see some of your old crews in the waters with us?”

Mycroft still inspected his hand, fascinated. “There’s no way I can hide this,” he said. “How...I can’t go home like this.”

Molly frowned. “But you can be with me. Isn’t that enough?”

Mycroft looked at her heart broken face and smiled. “On the contrary, my dear, you just gave me the reason to join you.” And with that, he leapt into the water.

Molly squeaked in surprise when Mycroft swan dived into the water, surfacing to kiss her quickly. With neither of them remembering to swim to keep the other afloat, they sank underwater the longer they stayed together. The kiss tasted of salt, but was the sweetest thing they had ever experienced, alone or together. Eventually Mycroft started to weaken, and Molly was worried it was too early for him to have joined her, that she had overestimated her power. But Mycroft was as alert as ever, looking around them both and grinning. “This is amazing!” he laughed.

“I’m very glad you like it, love,” Molly grinned.

Mycroft looked at her and kissed her again, and Molly looked down, gasping. Mycroft had already finished transformation, and his scales matched hers, in that orange-white-black design she was told was a koi fish tail. Matching tails indicated...well, matching personalities. Soulmates. “Mycroft, look down,” she breathed.

He did, and frowned. “Wow, I didn’t even feel that,” he twisted his new tail around and blinked. “It doesn’t even take getting used to.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Molly smiled. “Our tails match. In my culture, that’s a sign of soulmates.”

Mycroft looked stunned, and then started to laugh. “Oh, that’s going to go over well, I’m sure. You show up with a former sailor who’s also your soulmate, can you imagine the rioting? I’ve seen men get torn apart for following mermaids home.”

“This is different!” Molly protested. “They can’t argue with soulmates! If they have a problem with it, then they can leave for a ‘purer’ settlement!”

Mycroft smiled. “You care for me that much?”

“Of course!” Molly exclaimed. “C’mon, we should probably surface. You need to get that new tail of yours in swimming shape.”

Mycroft followed Molly to the surface right below the ship and they could already hear Mycroft’s crew panicking. “Where is he?! He can’t have gotten far, guys! Come on! Look!”

Molly looked at Mycroft, and him at Molly, and they burst into giggles. “Oi!” Mycroft called. “Down here!”

His crew all came to the railing and looked down. “Captain! Get up here!”

“I can’t, I’m afraid,” he lamented. “You see, I’ve met this lovely lass, and we’ve decided that we are going to live together for the rest of our lives,” Mycroft gestured to Molly, and she sheepishly smiled. “Besides, I’m not sure I’d be able to properly command the ship anymore!” he somersaulted in the water to show why, and his entire crew stood there, gobsmacked. “Now, before you try to kill me and my soon-to-be wife, should she accept my proposal, I advise you to consider that a lot of mermaids and mermen were once human, like, say, oh, me? Try to show other people that as well? Because not being killed would be fantastic!” Mycroft turned to Molly. “Now, if I am to marry you, I do need to know where we’d live.”

Molly grinned at him. “I’ll show you the way, Captain Holmes. Just follow me!”

And he did, for the rest of their lives.


	45. Surprise?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A/N: So...I still take requests, guys! And I got one! Yay! This is from Rose and her Doctor on FF:
> 
> I don't know if you're still doing prompts at all, but what about if person A thinks person B is cheating on them but person B is actually throwing person A a surprise birthday party. You can pick whoever you want to be to person A and B
> 
> ...So, yeah! Have some Uni!lock! Enjoy!

"Hey, Mycroft?" Molly asked.

Mycroft made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat.

"Do you have anything you'd like to say to me?"

He looked up with an 'ah' noise. "Sorry I was out late last night, I was busy working."

Molly frowned. "That store makes you work obscene hours."

"It does," Mycroft agreed. "But don't worry. Tonight I'll be home."

Molly sighed and shook her head lovingly at him. "You better," she threatened. "I'm making dinner."

Mycroft did an over exaggerated gag noise and Molly smacked him, none too lightly. "Behave, Mycroft. Or else you'll be making noodles in the microwave."

"I'll take that risk," Mycroft joked, kissing her on the cheek.

"Love you, love," Molly called as Mycroft left.

"Love you more," Mycroft called back. "See you after class."

Molly grinned and got up from their kitchen table, finishing her homework assigned yesterday before heading to her first class of the day. Her and Mycroft's schedules were staggered, so most days they saw each other for lunch and dinner, and then studied for their classes or went to work. She couldn't wait to talk birthday plans with Mycroft, she had ideas about splurging for some food from her favorite restaurant, watching some _Doctor Who_ on the telly and enjoying a nice night in with her boyfriend and perhaps a glass of wine.

When Molly got home for lunch, she was greeted with an empty flat. She frowned and set her stuff down on the couch, going into the kitchen. "Mycroft?" she called.

Nothing. There was a note on the counter, though. _Molly- Forgot about a test. Needed to cram at the library. Sorry, love you, Mycroft_

Molly frowned. Forgot about a test? Mycroft never forgot a test, not in a class that would require cramming if he did. So where did he go? She shook her head. He wouldn't, and yet-and yet the most probable answer was that Mycroft was cheating on her. Molly scoffed aloud. That was ridiculous. There was no way he was cheating on her. Molly pulled out her cell and called Mycroft. He was panting on the other end. "Molly?"

"Hey, love," she said. "Are you okay? You sound out of breath."

"I just ran a flight of stairs, no big deal," he brushed off.

Molly cocked her head to the side. There weren't multiple levels in the library…"You sure you're okay? I was hoping we'd get to eat lunch together."

"Now's not the best time, Moll," Mycroft blew her off. "Another time, all right? I promise."

Molly scowled. If she didn't believe it before, she did now. She had probably caught Mycroft in one of those compromising situations that he was always going on about. "I'll hold you to it," she threatened.

Mycroft laughed. Actually _laughed_. He never laughed, not even when he found something funny. "All right, Moll. All right. Love you."

"Love you too," Molly said, though the words, to her, rang hollow.

Mycroft chuckled and hung up. Molly put down her phone, shaking her head. Cheating seemed like such an un-Mycroft thing to do. She didn't want to believe it.

* * *

The evidence just seemed to be stacking up against her. The only times she saw Mycroft was when he was studying, otherwise it seemed like he was actively avoiding her. She bit back tears and screams every time she saw him, always wanting to give him the benefit of the doubt. But by the time her birthday came around, she was so tired of pretending to be happy all she could think to want was a good night's sleep.

She opened up the door to find the apartment still dark. She sighed. Mycroft was still avoiding her, it seemed. She dropped her keys at the door and walked into the kitchen, where battery-operated candles surrounded takeaway boxes, and Mycroft was standing expectantly. "Surprise!" he said, clearly pleased with himself.

Molly looked at the scene before her, uncomprehending. "Wh-what's this?" she whispered.

Mycroft frowned. "I-it's your birthday 'party'. I know you didn't want anything big, so I just set this up for the two of us. Is something wrong?"

Tears pricked Molly's eyes. Mycroft started to panic. "Moll?! Did I do something wrong?"

"H-how long did it take you to put this together?" she whispered.

"Several days," Mycroft said. "I had to bribe most of your friends to leave us be, it took all my spare time to pay all them off. You're really too social."

This meant...Molly started to cry. Mycroft rushed to her and hugged her. "Did I do something wrong?"

Molly shook her head. "N-no! O-o-of course not! I just thought…" she choked. "I thought you were cheating on me…"

Mycroft pulled back, shocked. "Why would I cheat on you?! You're everything I want in a woman! I love you, Moll," Mycroft said quietly.

Molly smiled and sniffed. "Do I smell chicken?"

"Your favorite, from Angelo's," Mycroft said shyly. "And I have _Doctor Who_ taped...so, y'know...we can watch it later. After dinner. Oh, and I've done all my homework, so I'm yours all night," he murmured. "I'd love to prove how wrong you were."

"Down, boy," Molly chuckled. "Dinner first, of course."

"Of course," Mycroft said. "Happy birthday, Molly."

Molly smiled at him. "What did I ever do to deserve you?" she asked in disbelief.


End file.
